


Snap Out Of It

by TheGirlWhoSawImagination



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Also This Story Begins In November Instead of January, Alternate Season/Series 01, Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, As Due To His Age In This There Is No Past Derek/Paige Or Derek/Kate, BAMF Allison Argent, Canon Typical Violence, Character Death, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Derek Has Yellow Werewolf Eyes Instead of Blue Ones, Don’t copy to another site, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Harem(s), Het, Humor, Hurt & Comfort, Implied Mpreg, Implied Pregnancy, Instead There Is Past Peter/Kate, Intersex Derek Hale, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mates, Multi, Oral Sex, Past Peter Hale/Kate Argent, Polyamory, Romance, Scott is a True Alpha From 1x01, Scott/Multi | Scott/Harem AU, Season/Series 01, Slash, Smut, So the Timeline’s Kinda Fucked, Soulmates, Teenager Derek Hale, Timeline What Timeline, Title Comes From the Song “Snap Out Of It” by Arctic Monkeys, True Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), True Mates, Vaginal Sex, Werewolf Biology, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Sex, Witch Stiles Stilinski, Young Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28028634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWhoSawImagination/pseuds/TheGirlWhoSawImagination
Summary: AU//In a world where true alphas are far more important than they seem, Scott McCall’s life is derailed even more than it is in canon when he becomes one as soon as he is bitten by Peter.//Aka, the true alpha!Scott and Scott/Multi season 1 AU that absolutely no one asked for, featuring a fem!witch!Stiles, a young!Derek, Scallison/Sciles/Scerek, and more. Rated ‘M’ for a reason!
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Scott McCall, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. First Bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Welcome to my story! I’m not sure who exactly is going to be reading this – this story is little out there, even for this fandom – but whoever you are, I’m glad you chose to do so!
> 
> This story is pretty much what it says on the tin...err, summary. Unlike my other stories, there’s not really any big warnings I need to say, besides the large amass of tags on AO3 (that’s just how I roll). I will say, though, that if you are not a fan of Scott, then it’s pretty much for certain that you will not like this story. I could be wrong, of course (and I’d be glad to be proven so!), but Scott is...well, he’s my favorite character, and one of the many prompts that this story was formed from was my desire to see him be happier than he was in canon.
> 
> Now, I expect that this story will be roughly...oh 54 chapters long or so? I’m not quite sure. I do know that each episode, of which there are 12 in this season, will have roughly 4-5 chapters, so...do with that info what you will. Also, I’m just going to say this now: updates will most likely be sporadic. I’m in college, have frequent health issues, and have also had some family issues as of late, so...yeah. This month should be relatively fine, and maybe even January, but after that...who knows?
> 
> If I haven’t managed to scare you off with all of the above, then all that I have left to say is that I hope you enjoy this story, and that the next chapter will be uploaded sometime this upcoming week!
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> ~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

**To be honest, Scott should have known from the moment Stiles told him about there being a dead body in the woods that his night was going to go completely, utterly, and horribly _wrong_.**

Really, he should have. Because besides the fact that there was a _very_ real chance that the killer of the dead body was still out and about in the woods, Scott also knew that he was a bit of an... _unlucky_ person. Or, as Stiles liked to call him, _“a walking embodiment of Murphy’s Law”_. Because whenever something had the potential to go wrong in Scott’s life, it seemed – like the potential of him having a hospital-inducing asthma attack while being benched during a lacrosse match, for instance – that potential would almost-most-assuredly _happen_.

...Like the potential of him getting lost in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night, for instance.

_Like he was now._

...See, it had all started early that night, when Scott had been sitting on the edge of his bed in his room, preparing his things for both the first day of school after Thanksgiving Break and the one and only day for lacrosse try-outs the following day. The preparations – which consisted of him cleaning out his book-bag and duffel bag for lacrosse, gathering up his books and assignments, and rethreading the head of his lacrosse stick – were more menial and tedious than they were difficult, and so Scott’s mind was able to wander to more important things, like how _different_ this year of lacrosse was going to be.

Seriously. Because although Scott had, admittedly, been benched for the entire lacrosse season, that wasn’t necessarily his fault or the fault of that one horrible asthma attack that he had had. Rather, it had been more because of his status as a freshman more than anything else, which made Scott hopeful – _regardless of what Stiles said_ – that he actually had a shot at playing rather than being benched for the entire season, considering the fact that he was now a sophomore.

...Especially when you threw in the fact that he may or may not have been practicing since the start of the summer as well, as he liked to “humbly” point out to his best friend over and over again.

It was as Scott sat down on his bed to do the last of his tasks, aka the rethreading of his lacrosse stick, that he _felt_ , more than heard, the ringing of his phone from the opposite side of his mattress. At first, he ignored the sensation, as he knew that 1) his mom was at the hospital working a late-shift, so she wouldn’t be calling him and 2) that meant that it was most likely Stiles, the best friend in question, calling him, and that _rarely_ meant anything good for him at this time of night. Especially when he had every intention of going to bed after his preparations were done.

However, after his phone began to ring for the third or fourth time – he didn’t know, as he lost count – Scott let out a frustrated sigh and grabbed it. Once he saw from the caller ID and the grinning face of a dark-haired girl that it _was_ his best friend, though, he let out a sigh and rolled his eyes before he sent a quick text – something along the lines of _“busy rn, talk to you later”_. Then, once he considered his mission accomplished, he shut off his phone and returned to his work at hand.

After he had finished both pulling the laces of the lacrosse stick into a diamond-mesh net and making sure that the final product was satisfactory with both a ball that was lying around and his fist, Scott then put the stick and the ball into his lacrosse duffel bag before he started his nightly routine. The chin-ups that were on the first of that list weren’t really all that hard since he had been doing them for so long, but they were a nice confidence booster in light of the slight nervousness he was feeling about the lacrosse try-outs. Likewise, his examination of his appearance – specifically, his black hair, brown eyes, and slightly crooked jaw, all of which his best friend said made him look _“adorkable,”_ whatever that meant – after he had washed his face was also a nice confidence booster, but admittedly, not for the same reasons.

It was as Scott was brushing his teeth, aka the final thing to do for both his nightly routine and his night in general, that he heard a curious... _sound_ , for lack of a better word. It almost sounded like something – or, more terrifyingly, _someone_ – had crashed against the house, and it caused Scott to turn around from the sink and look at his bedroom with a frown. He remained that way for several moments, toothbrush in hand and head slightly tilted, but when he didn’t hear anything else, he shrugged and turned back to the sink –

_– Just as the noise suddenly happened again._

Now deciding that the noise was worth investigating, since it had happened twice, Scott set down his toothbrush, wiped off his face, and went into his room to throw on some clothes that didn’t consist solely of a pair of athletic shorts. Then, once satisfied with his new attire, the sixteen-year-old hurried out of his room, down the hallway and stairs, and out of the house. However, just before he exited the house, he _did_ make sure to grab the baseball bat that was innocuously perched against the staircase, just in case whatever it was that was out there was not an animal, like he thought, but rather...something else. Something _predatory_.

Once Scott got outside, though, a rather strange sight greeted his eyes. Although it was hard for him to see much of anything because of how dark it was, it _was_ obvious to him that there wasn’t anything large enough to have caused the noises that he had heard, regardless as to whether or not the “thing” was animal or human. His frown deepening, Scott instinctively loosened his grip on the baseball bat that was raised in his hands, when suddenly –

– “ _Agh_!” Scott screamed, just as something – no, _someone_ – dropped down from the roof in front of him. The other person screamed in response as, arms flailing, they fell down from the roof, but thankfully both their voice and their clumsiness were familiar enough that Scott was able to recognize who they were, as evidenced when, a second later, he demanded, “Stiles, what the hell are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” the dark-haired girl scoffed with an expression of disbelief on her mole-covered face. “Scott, what were _you_ doing? Why weren’t you answering your phone? And why do you have a bat?”

Understandably, his best friend said the last part a little warily, and Scott found himself gazing at the bat with the same feeling for a few moments before he scrunched up his face and shook his head. “I thought you were a predator!” he protested.

Stiles, in typical Stiles fashion, snorted in response. “A pre – I – what,” she replied, before she, too, shook her head and said, “Okay, look, I know it’s late, but you _gotta_ hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago: dispatch called. They’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even the state police.”

Scott found himself frowning again. Although he very much wanted to get an early night’s sleep – or, at least, as early of a night’s sleep that he could manage – so that he would be well-rested for the lacrosse try-outs tomorrow, he _knew_ from being the best friend of a sheriff’s daughter what the state police being called in meant. It meant that something had happened. Something _big_.

And that was why, a few moments later, he asked, “For what?”

Stiles grinned. “Two joggers found a body in the woods.”

Scott’s frown deepened... _again_. “A dead body?”

“No, a body of water,” his best friend deadpanned, also in typical Stiles fashion, before she rolled her eyes and added, “Yes, dumbass! A dead body! What else did you expect me to say?”

“Hold on,” Scott said. “If they found the dead body, then what else are they looking for? And why did they call in the state police?”

“Well, that’s the best part,” Stiles replied cheerfully, her amber eyes glinting. “They only found _half_. And before you say anything else,” she quickly added, presumably upon seeing his expression, “We’re going. No ‘if’s’ or ‘what’s’ about it. So, come on!”

~~~

After a ten-minute drive to the nearest parking lot for the Beacon Hills Preserve, the two of them stepped out of Stiles’s powder-blue Jeep and started walking – well, practically _skipping_ in Stiles’s case. Scott was following her more sedately – down the offered path.

“So...we’re really doing this?” Scott asked yet again as he nervously looked at the woods, which were much more ominous-looking due to how dark it was and the light smell of decay from the leaves that was in the air.

“Well, you’re the one who’s always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town,” Stiles retorted as she turned on the flashlight that was in her hands. “Besides, it’s our last night of freedom until Winter Break! You should be more excited than this.”

Scott huffed. “Well, I _was_ wanting to get a good night’s sleep for try-outs tomorrow. You know that.”

“... _Right_ ,” Stiles said snarkily a few moments later. “‘Cause sitting on the bench is a such a _grueling_ effort.”

Scott didn’t reply. The silence between them as they walked became thick with tension, until finally, after several moments, Stiles let out a sigh and turned around to face him. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said honestly. “But, _come on_ , Scott! When are we ever going to get the chance to do something like this again?”

“...Hopefully never?” Scott returned with a glare.

Stiles laughed. “Exactly! This may be our one and only shot to do something like this! Are you just going to let the opportunity slide, like you usually do?”

Scott frowned. “...I guess not,” he eventually replied, before a slight smile settled on his face. “Hey, uh...just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?”

Stiles, who had turned around and resumed her “practically-skipping” gait, suddenly faltered. “Huh,” she said. “I didn’t even think about that.”

Scott resisted the urge to chuckle as he asked, “And what if whoever killed the body – the _girl_ , sorry – is still out here?”

“...Also something I didn’t think about,” his best friend admitted, before she shook her head. “No. _No_ , Scott! We are doing this, whether you like it or not!”

This time, Scott _did_ laugh. “No, no, I agree, Stiles,” he said as he clasped his inhaler, which was sitting snugly in his hoodie pocket. After all, a severe asthmatic could never be too careful when hiking out in the woods in the middle of the night. “It’s just... _comforting_ to know that you’ve planned this out with your usual attention to detail.”

“Oh, _shut up_ , will you?” Stiles retorted, but the humor in her tone obviously meant that she didn’t mean it.

...Mostly, anyways.

The two of them walked down the path for a little while longer, until they came to the foot of a rather steep hill. At first, Scott thought that Stiles was going to walk around it, but she must’ve seen _something_ , because in the next moment she was dashing quickly up the hill and Scott had to struggle after her.

When the two of them finally got to the top of the hill, Scott pulled out his inhaler, shook it, and used it, before he turned to look at Stiles with a slight glare. “Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight?” he suggested.

Stiles gave him the flashlight, but not without whispering furiously at him, “Scott, look at _this_.”

Once Scott had the flashlight in his grasp, he turned and did as he was told. There, perhaps forty or so feet away from them, was a clearing that was sectioned off with yellow police tape and illuminated by giant floodlights. In the middle of the clearing there was also a giant black body bag, and Scott found himself feeling more than _just_ a little nauseated when he realized that two pale, bare feet were sticking out of it.

“Is that...is that the second half of the body?” he asked.

“No,” Stiles replied with a shake of her head. “They would have called off the search by now if it was. Now, come on. I want to get a better look.”

Then, without any other warning, Stiles stood up and began to do a light jog around the outskirts of the perimeter of the clearing. She wasn’t even vaguely illuminated by the floodlights, yet Scott found himself feeling rather nervous at how fast she was going, _especially_ when he was struggling to keep up.

“Stiles!” Scott whisper-yelled desperately. “Stiles, wait up!”

But Stiles, apparently, didn’t hear him. Shaking his head, Scott stopped chasing after his best friend in order to use his inhaler, as his breathing had become much more shortened and sporadic. Once his breathing was better, he began to run after Stiles again, but suddenly –

“Hey, stay right there!” a voice shouted.

Eyes widening, Scott quickly ran to hide behind a tree, before he squeezed them shut as tightly as he possibly could. He heard dogs barking – viciously, _ferociously_ – but, strangely enough, they didn’t seem to be...

_...Barking at him._

“Hold on, hold on,” a very familiar voice said. “This little delinquent belongs to _me_.”

Ah, that explained it then. Scott, apparently, hadn’t been found out, but Stiles most certainly _had_.

“Uh...hey, Dad,” he heard his best friend in question say.

“Do you listen in on all of my phone calls?” Sheriff Stilinski asked, his tone getting more and more irritated by the second.

“No!” Stiles immediately protested, but her protest wasn’t very believable, because a moment later, she said, “...Not the boring ones, anyways.”

Scott heard the sheriff snort. “And where’s your usual partner-in-crime?”

“Scott?” Stiles scoffed. Once again, it sounded very unbelievable, even to him. “Scott’s home, Dad. Said he wanted to get a good night’s sleep for the first day back at school – oh, and lacrosse try-outs! Can’t forget those.”

“Uh huh,” the sheriff hummed in reply. Then, with a much louder voice, he called out, “Scott, are you out there?”

Scott stiffened against the back of the tree he was hiding behind, his eyes squeezed so tight that he honestly thought they just might pop out of his head.

The sheriff waited for several moments, obviously expecting him to suddenly appear – and land himself in a _shit_ ton of trouble while he was at it. However, when Scott did no such thing, he heard Stiles’s dad sigh. “Alright, _Marzanna_ ,” he said, and Scott couldn’t help but wince, because Stiles’s dad calling her by her first name meant that nothing but trouble was in her immediate future. “I’m going to take you back to your car, and while I do so, you and I are going to have a nice little _chat_ about something called the _invasion of privacy_. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Dad,” Stiles said miserably.

Scott then heard them leave, the crunching of the leaves underneath their feet unmistakable. However, Scott did not move from his position behind the tree, not even a little. In fact, it wasn’t until what felt like a _lifetime_ later that he opened his eyes, and even then, he turned around to make sure that no one was looking at him before he slowly walked away from the clearing and towards the path that he and Stiles came from.

“Great, just _great_ ,” Scott sighed as he walked. “As if my life couldn’t get any worse.”

...And really, Scott knew as soon as he said those words that he _shouldn’t_ have said them. It was like he was just _asking_ for trouble, due to how shitty his luck was. And sure enough, what had to have been twenty or so minutes later, Scott was proven right, as he found himself completely and utterly _lost_.

...Which was where he was now.

Letting out a sigh, Scott shook his head and took out his phone with one hand, as his flashlight was conveniently located in the other. At first, he thought about calling Stiles, as if there was one person who could figure out where he was in potentially-legally-dubious-ways, it was her. However, when Scott also realized that, in all likelihood, his best friend _wouldn’t_ be able to pick up for the phone for one reason or another, he sighed and went to open up the GPS part of his phone instead.

But, just before he could click on that _stupid_ little button for the app, Scott suddenly heard a _noise_. It wasn’t like the noises that he heard before, though, when Stiles had been climbing up on the roof of his house, no. This noise...well, it was more like a rustling in the trees. And, more than that...

_...It sent shivers down his spine._

Frowning, Scott looked up and around, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. It was dark, though, very dark, and he couldn’t really see anything, even with the flashlight that was in his one hand. Frowning, Scott moved to turn on his phone’s flashlight, too, just for the potential backup it could bring, when suddenly –

– _BAM!_

Scott let out a bloodcurdling scream as he felt something, something that was _much_ larger than him, crash into his side painfully. The impact sent him – _both_ of them, whatever the thing that had collided with him was – sprawling to the ground, and Scott couldn’t help but let out another scream when he felt himself hit the ground.

At first, for all of one _fleeting_ second, Scott thought that the impact would just be that, an impact. Because, instinctively, Scott assumed that whatever hit him was an animal, and that it was just as _terrified_ as he was. And that meant, rather than attacking him, the animal would be more likely to run away, to just leave him alone so that he could nurse the physical and mental bruises that the animal had just caused him.

However, Scott’s hopes were completely and utterly ruined when, after that fleeting second was up, he felt a pair of _razor sharp_ teeth suddenly sink into his side. The pain from the inflicted wound was agonizing, so agonizing that Scott thought that he was going to be cut in _half_ , but just as suddenly as the creature – whatever it was – had crashed into him, the feeling of its teeth in his side _vanished_ , leaving him gasping and choking on the forest floor.

With the same instincts that had made him think that the creature would somehow spare him, Scott got to his feet with a hand that was pressed firmly to his side. He didn’t know where the flashlight he had just had was – it had probably went flying just after the creature had attacked him – and, to be honest, he didn’t really _care_. All that Scott cared about was getting out of the woods, especially when, after he had turned on the flashlight on his phone, he saw the flash of pale skin, dark hair, and wide, _glazed over_ eyes.

With another scream at the sight of the dead body before him, Scott turned and ran, like his entire life – because, for all he knew, it _did_ – depended on it. Not once did it occur to him while he was running, though, that he was running without the assistance of his inhaler. And even if it did, Scott was still too terrified to ponder on such a thing, just like he was too terrified to realize that he actually no longer had his inhaler on his person.

In fact, it wasn’t until that Scott suddenly found himself standing in the middle of a road that the terror began to seep away from Scott’s mind and body. Shakily, he let out a sigh of relief, but this relief was short-lived, because in the next moment, there was the sound of screeching tires and the honking of a horn and – _oh, God, a SUV had almost clipped him._

After making sure that no other cars were coming, Scott shook his head and, shakily, _gingerly_ , lifted his shirt. Once again, he felt himself become _extremely_ nauseated, because the sight of the bite that was in his side...well, it just wasn’t pretty, especially with how much blood was oozing out of it. Really, it wasn’t.

...And the howl that he heard not a moment later, from somewhere in the woods he had just run from, was equally as disconcerting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Title: Scent


	2. Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I know this chapter is fairly late, and I apologize for that. I had to catch up on The Crown, wound up watching the entirety of Victoria because of it, and then had to rewrite this chapter several times over ‘cause I didn’t like the length. I hope you all will understand. :)
> 
> Next chapter will be uploaded sometime next week. Hopefully sooner than this, but we’ll see.
> 
> Until then,
> 
> ~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

**That morning, after spending the first half of his night in the woods and the second half of it tending to the fresh wound on his side, Scott showed up at school that morning feeling _very_ disgruntled.**

Seriously. Because not only was he sleep-deprived from the complete lack of...well, _sleep_ that he had had the previous night, but the biking that he had also had to have done in order to get to school was not fun. At all. In fact, it was so utterly _“unfun”_ – yes, he knew that wasn’t a word, but then again, so did Stiles, and she used it all the time – that, when he first saw the dark-haired girl in question standing outside their school, waiting for him, the first thought that had come to his mind was how much he wanted to be _mad_ at her.

You see, in the nearly decade-long history of their friendship, Scott had never been able to stay mad at his best friend for long. Not when she had gotten them both suspended for fighting in the third grade, not when she had broken his PlayStation when they were both fourteen, and certainly not now. Because, even if he desired to be mad at her, Scott also couldn’t help but feel like he was more to blame for what had happened than her. After all, _he_ had been the one who had hidden from her father and the rest of the police when they both had technically gotten caught for trespassing. _He_ had been the one who had been stupid enough to go walking in the woods in the dark without the map on his phone turned on. And he had been the one to...

...Scott sighed and shook his head. There was no use for him to try to stay mad at Stiles. So, with those thoughts in mind, he walked towards his best friend and, when he was close enough, said, “So, tell me: how much trouble are you in ‘cause of last night?”

Stiles, who, up until that point, had been staring at Jackson Whittemore – one of their fellow sophomores and the new captain of the lacrosse team – getting out of his car, blinked and looked up in surprise. Her shock, though, instantly turned into a sarcastic facial expression as she scoffed, “Oh, not much. You know my dad. He can’t ever stay mad at me for anything. What about _you_ , though?” Here, her expression became much more concerned, however hard she tried to hide it. “Did you get home okay last night? I meant to call you or pick you up, but – well – ”

“Your dad had one of the deputies following you and that one app on your phone on?” Scott guessed. He knew what the implication in what she was saying meant. When Stiles nodded, he then shrugged and said, “I got home okay, don’t worry...well, mostly, anyways.”

“‘Mostly’?” Stiles immediately quoted with another scoff. “‘Mostly’? What the hell do you mean by _mostly_?”

Scott looked around. No one was paying attention to them – no one _ever_ paid attention to them at school, really, except for their teachers – and so he didn’t really feel bad about _showing_ instead of _telling_ Stiles what had happened...which he did a few moments later, when he lifted up his shirt a few inches and revealed the blood-stained bandage that he had only finished applying maybe an hour or two before.

Predictably, Stiles’s eyes widened at the sight of the bandage. “...Holy _shit_ ,” she breathed as she instinctively reached out to touch the wound with her nimble fingers before she pulled away, obviously thinking better of it. “What the _hell_ happened last night, Scott? Why didn’t you call me?”

Scott shrugged again as he let his shirt fall back down over the bandage. “I got lost in the woods and something bit me,” he answered. “Didn’t want to call you ‘cause I didn’t want you to get in trouble. It was too dark for me to really see much, so I’m not completely sure what it was, but...I think it may have been a wolf.”

Stiles suddenly scoffed. “A wolf bit you?” she asked, incredulous, before she shook her head. “No, not a chance. Sorry, Scotty.”

“Why not?” Scott asked in return, also incredulous. He didn’t like her tone, or the framing of her words, but he knew that there must’ve been some reason for each of those things. “I mean, I heard a wolf howling, Stiles.”

“No, you _didn’t_ ,” Stiles insisted.

Scott began to get a little irritated. “What do you mean, ‘No, I didn’t’?” he scoffed. “How do you know what I heard? Were you secretly there?”

“...No, I wasn’t,” Stiles admitted with a frown. “But California doesn’t _have_ wolves, Scott. Not for the last sixty years. They went locally extinct here.”

Scott frowned. “Wait, really?” he asked.

“ _Yes_ , really,” his best friend emphasized in return with a nod of her dead. “What else did you expect me to say? And really, why don’t you already know this? Don’t you want to be a veterinarian, or something like that?”

Scott’s frown deepened. Although he knew that Stiles was probably right – no, scratch that, she was _definitely_ right. The topic was niche enough for her to be, anyways – a part of him didn’t _want_ to agree with her. After all, regardless of what she said, he _knew_ what he had heard, and what he had heard had been a wolf howl. Still, knowing better than to argue on the subject further, Scott shook his head and, with a gentle smile, said, “Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re _definitely_ not going to believe me when I tell you that I found the other half of the body last night, too.”

Stiles’s eyes widened. “You _what_?” she cried. “You’re kidding me. You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

But Scott only shook his head again and laughed, despite the morbidity of the situation. “No, I wish. I’m going to have nightmares about it for a month, I think. Maybe even longer. It was gross.”

Stiles began to laugh as well before she clapped his shoulder. “That’s awesome,” she said, her amber eyes twinkling. “Seriously. ‘Cause you may not have realized it yet, but this is the best thing that’s happened to this town since...since...”

The dark-haired girl suddenly faltered.

Scott turned.

There, standing right in front of Jackson Whittemore’s car and talking to the lacrosse captain himself, was Lydia Martin – aka, the girl that Stiles had had a crush on ever since the third grade. She was a rather beautiful girl, with strawberry blonde hair, light green eyes, and an impeccable taste in fashion and makeup. But, well...she also wasn’t exactly Scott’s _type_ – at least, not in personality, anyways. Because while Scott could very well see why his best friend liked the other girl because of her looks, Lydia Martin was also a _very_ shallow girl. In fact, all she ever seemingly cared about was her popularity and her status as Jackson’s girlfriend, despite what Stiles would say to the contrary.

Deciding that he wanted to tease his best friend a little bit – _just_ a little bit – Scott leaned over and, in a low voice, said, “You know, you could always...oh, I don’t know...tell her how you feel?”

Stiles immediately scoffed. “Oh, shut up, will you?” she said as she playfully hit him on the shoulder. “You sound just as bad as those cheesy movies you like do.”

“Hey!” Scott protested with a playful glare. However, just before he could 1) defend his love for his favorite movies and 2) accuse Stiles of liking them more than he did, the five-minute bell suddenly rang and, with that, the two of them hurried off to class.

~~~

Seven minutes later, Scott and Stiles were sitting side-by-side in their first class of the day, which just so happened to be English. Their teacher, a man called Mr. Curtis whom neither of the two best friends particularly liked, was standing in front of the classroom, a stern expression on his face, as per usual.

“Welcome back,” the older man began, but it was less of a genuine greeting and more of a frivolous gesture than anything else. “As you all probably know by now, there was indeed a body found at the preserve last night. And, while I’m sure all of your eager little minds are coming up with all sorts of macabre situations as to how it happened, you needn’t worry. I’ve been told that the police have a suspect in custody.”

Scott frowned, before he turned to look at Stiles. After all, Stiles _was_ the sheriff’s daughter, and if what Mr. Curtis said was true, then she should’ve already heard about it by now and told him. Yet, when she noticed his incredulous stare, all his best friend did was shrug, signifying that she also had no idea about what their teacher was talking about.

“A vagrant,” Mr. Curtis continued, albeit with a stern glare that was leveled Scott’s way for his inadvertent interruption, “with a long history of psychiatric disorders was discovered camping out in the woods near where the body was found. Which means, of course, that your undivided attention can now be given to the set of questions on your desks about the reading you were supposed to do over break. And since I imagine that these questions will take you the entire period, I think it’s best if you start them now, don’t you?”

The entire class groaned at his words but, nevertheless, took out their respective writing utensils and began to get to work, the glare that he gave them all at their lackluster attitudes most encouraging. Initially, Scott moved to do the same, pencil in his hand and his name already neatly written at the top of the paper, when, all of the sudden, a... _curious_ thing happened.

Because suddenly, the shuffling of papers, which he had only vaguely noticed the sound of, became loud. _Unbearably_ loud. Wincing, Scott brought a hand to one of his ears, hoping that it would help abate the noise, just as he heard –

– _The ringing of a cellphone._

Scott’s eyes widened, because it sounded like _his_ phone was ringing, and that was _always_ a bad thing in Mr. Curtis’s class. The English teacher had always been a stickler about students keeping their phones on silent during his period, and any student caught breaking that rule was sure to have their phone confiscated for the entire day and also receive a detention slip.

Curiously, though, as Scott both reached for his bag and looked to see if Mr. Curtis was looking over at him, he realized that the teacher, in fact, had not noticed that his phone was ringing at all. Which was... _weird_. Mr. Curtis always noticed such things, after all, even when the student who was about to get in trouble didn’t. And, more than that, the ringing of his phone was so _loud_ , that the prospect that Mr. Curtis somehow _didn’t_ notice was...well, it was just unbelievable.

But, before Scott could ponder this thought any further, he heard something _else_. Something like –

– _“Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it,”_ a distinctly feminine voice said.

Scott nearly fell out of his seat, before he wildly looked around for the owner of the voice. After all, if he couldn’t find the owner, if everyone was apparently oblivious to it – and they were – then...something was wrong with him. Something _had_ to be wrong with him.

Before Scott could _really_ begin to freak out, though, he found the owner of the voice...relatively easily, in fact. Because there, standing outside, maybe twenty or so feet away from the classroom window, was _her_ , the owner of the voice. At first, Scott stared at her in shock – because how could he _possibly_ hear her from such a distance, especially with a wall made of brick between them? – but soon, his shock dissipated. Because then, he realized...

...The girl was _beautiful_.

Seriously, _honestly_ , she was. And that was saying a _lot_ , considering that Scott...well, he had never found anyone, girl or boy, _this_ attractive before. Still, there was just... _something_ about her dark brown hair and eyes, something about her pale skin, something abut her smile...

...And it was something that he _liked_.

 _“I have everything, Mom,”_ the girl spoke up again with that gentle smile of hers, presumably in response to whatever her mom said on the phone. Scott didn’t know for sure, though, as he couldn’t hear the woman’s voice.

Just as soon as the girl said those words, though, a strange look settled on her face. _“Oh my God,”_ she said. _“I have everything except a pen. How did I forget a pen?”_

Scott winced. But this time, it was from sympathy for the girl’s plight, rather than his own pain. Because while Scott may have never forgotten a writing utensil before, _Stiles_ did, and she forgot one enough times that he was well-familiar with each of their teacher’s forms of punishment for it...including Mr. Curtis’s.

Suddenly, as he watched the vice-principal exit the building and walk towards the girl, something in Scott’s mind _clicked_. Because if Scott, for once in his life, even had a minuscule bit of luck, then the girl...well, the girl _would be in his class_. And if that was the case, then he certainly didn’t want for her to get in trouble with Mr. Curtis for a lack of a writing utensil on her first day of school at Beacon Hills High. No, he didn’t want that at all.

Without any further thought about why his assumption may very well _not_ be the case, Scott reached down to grab his pack, which was resting just below his desk, and quickly opened it. Unfortunately, though, while he had just cleaned out the stupid thing the previous night, finding what he wanted proved to be difficult, as there was no pen or pencil other than the one sitting on his desk in sight.

In fact, it was so difficult that, a few moments later, Mr. Curtis cleared his throat and said, “Are you having a problem, Mr. McCall?”

Scott immediately sat up. Then, he flushed, both from his catching Mr. Curtis’s attention and the sudden change in gravity.

“No, Mr. Curtis,” he said quickly, while he resisted the urge to smile.

A pen was now clutched firmly in one of his hands.

Mr. Curtis gave him a look in response that said his answer wasn’t quite satisfactory. However, before the older man could reprimand him further, the door to the classroom opened, revealing both the vice-principal and the dark-haired girl.

Scott resisted the urge to whoop.

“Class,” the vice-principal said, once everyone had turned to look at him and the dark-haired girl. “This is one of our new students today, Allison Argent. Please, do your best to make her feel welcome.”

With that, the vice-principal then left.

 _Allison,_ Scott couldn’t help but think as he watched the girl shyly walk over to Mr. Curtis’s desk in order to get settled. It was a pretty name. Beautiful, even. Just like she was.

Once Mr. Curtis had given Allison all of the things required for his class and had also discovered she had already read the Thanksgiving break reading – _“_ Frankenstein _is one of my favorite books, sir!”_ – he directed her to sit at the only seat that was available in the class, which was also the one that was directly behind Scott’s, which he had already accounted for when he had just started forming his plan. With a nervous smile, Allison then walked towards him, the books Mr. Curtis had given her clutched in her arms, and for a moment, their eyes locked.

And that was when _it_ happened.

Scott didn’t know how else to describe it, really. Because just as soon as his and Allison’s eyes locked, her... _scent_ washed over him. At first, Scott thought that her scent, or whatever it was that he was smelling, was perfume, but then he quickly disregarded the idea, for two reasons: 1) he doubted that anyone would wear a perfume that smelled like thorns and gunpowder and vanilla, no matter how good it smelled to him, and 2) the scent was also _so much better_ than perfume. Seriously, it smelled _that_ good. And it also made him kind of want to –

Scott blinked. Then, he shook his head.

And it was only then that he realized that Allison was no longer standing in front of him.

Scott turned around. She was sitting behind him now, a frown on her face, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at the questions in front of her. A hand was placed on her bag, as if she was going to try to search for a pen again, even if it was a hopeless endeavor.

“Hey,” Scott whispered.

Allison looked up.

“Do you need a pen?” he asked.

Instantly, she smiled, and Scott found his heartbeat quickening at the sight of it, at the fact that _he_ had caused it. “Yes, thank you!” she whispered as she took the proffered pen from his grasp.

Scott smiled back. “No, problem,” he replied, before he turned around again in his seat.

Then, he frowned.

~~~

“Hey, what was up with you earlier?” Stiles asked a few hours later, unknowingly voicing the concerned thoughts that Scott was having.

The two of them were standing in the cafeteria, waiting in line for lunch. The unusually loud noises of the chatter in the cafeteria, though, combined with the _very_ unappealing smell of the salisbury steak that the lunch ladies were serving today made it very hard for him to focus on Stiles. So, with a frown, he asked her, “What?”

“What was up with you earlier?” Stiles repeated with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

“N – nothing, Stiles,” he replied with a shrug, trying to act as nonchalantly as possible. He didn’t really know why – just that he didn’t want to tell her what had happened with him and Allison. Not yet, anyways. “Why?”

He must’ve not been as nonchalant as he thought, though, because in the next moment, Stiles smirked. “Oh, so there wasn’t anything going on between you and the new girl?” She teased. “What was her name again? I forgot. Was it Alyssa? Alicia? Alexandra? Ale –”

“Allison,” Scott quickly corrected, before he frowned, realizing that he’d played directly into her hands. “But that doesn’t prove anything!”

“Uh, huh,” Stiles hummed, unconvinced. Then, a strange light appeared in her eyes. “Hey, you know how the vice-principal said that Allison was one of two new students today, right?”

Scott’s frown deepened. “Yeah, why?”

“Well, you’re never going to believe who the other new student is,” his best friend said with a grin. “ _Derek Hale_.”

“Who?” Scott asked as they stepped forward.

Stiles huffed. “Derek Hale,” she repeated, as if that would help him remember who she was talking about. When all he did was just stare blankly at her, though, she rolled her eyes and said, “He was in our fourth grade class, Scott! He was a bit shyer than you and rather short, but still nice enough. You seriously don’t remember him?”

“Stiles, I barely remember what I had for breakfast yesterday,” Scott countered. “Do you honestly expect me to remember who this Derek Hale guy is?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Stiles hissed. “If only because it was _his_ entire family that died in the Hale fire, save for his older sister, and he had to be pulled out of class in order for my dad to tell him!”

Scott winced. _Now_ he knew who she was talking about. Because although he didn’t really remember Derek Hale or how he had been pulled out of their class to be told that his entire family had died, he _could_ distinctly remember the Hale fire, and how it had troubled both Stiles’s dad and his own mother for months. Especially when, despite it being confirmed that the fire was the result of arson, the perpetrators of the crime were still unknown to this day.

“Wait,” Scott said, once he had realized this information. “Why is he back in town? Didn’t he and his older sister – ”

“Laura,” Stiles immediately supplied.

“ – move away after it all...happened?”

“Yeah, they moved to New York. They have relatives there, apparently,” Stiles confirmed, before she shrugged. “I don’t know why he’s come back, honestly. All I know is that he was in my U.S. History class, and he was looking _really_ upset. Like someone had shoved a broom up his ass or something. Oh, and hot. He was looking rather hot, too.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Only _you_ would say that, Stiles,” he said.

“What? He was!” Stiles scoffed.

Scott opened his mouth to say something witty in response, if only to get on his best friend’s nerves. However, before he could say anything, he got a whiff of the _scent_ from earlier. The scent of thorns and gunpowder and vanilla. The scent that he found utterly delectable and –

– “Hey, you’re the guy that gave me a pen during English!”

Scott blinked and looked up.

There, standing in front of him again, was Allison, a gentle smile on her lips as she stood next to – _oh_ , that was Lydia Martin, and a _very_ unamused Lydia Martin. It seemed that the two of them must’ve become fast-friends at some point or another.

“Uh...yeah,” Scott said after a few moments, just before things could become uncomfortable. “I am.”

“What’s your name?” Allison asked.

Scott blinked again, before he flushed. She had just asked him for his name! That had _never_ happened before with any girl or boy he had been interested in, but then again, he had never been as interested in anyone as he was with her.

Thankfully, just before he could open his mouth and probably make a complete and _utter_ fool of himself, Stiles stepped in. “His name is Scott McCall,” she said, before with a grin, she held out her hand and added, “I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski. His best friend.”

Allison laughed as she accepted Stiles’s gesture. “Stiles?” she asked, her dark brown eyes lit with amusement. “What kind of name is Stiles?”

“A good one,” Stiles replied with a wink, without even missing a beat.

Allison laughed again.

Next to her, Lydia suddenly huffed, obviously displeased.

“Oh,” Allison said at Lydia’s reaction, a light flush appearing on her cheeks as she did so. “Well, Lydia and I were going to eat lunch together, so I guess we’ll be going now. It was nice to meet you, Scott! And you too, Stiles.”

Then, just like that, the two girls were gone.

Scott watched them go.

“...You know,” Stiles said after a few moments. “You could always just...oh, I don’t know...tell her how you feel?”

And just like that, the spell was broken. With a roll of his eyes, Scott mock-hit his best friend in the arm and said, “Shut up, Stiles!”

And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Title: Derek Hale (Maybe. Probably? I may change my mind.)


	3. Derek Hale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Sorry for the late (and kinda short) update – I got some mild writer exhaustion after writing 20k+ words in 2 weeks lol.
> 
> Next chapter will (hopefully) be posted sometime next week.
> 
> Until then,
> 
> ~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

**A few days after their return to school, Scott and Stiles were once again walking through the preserve, as it had taken precisely that long for the sixteen-year-old boy in question to realize that he had lost his inhaler in the woods the night he had been bitten by that wolf – or whatever else that _creature_ was.**

Now, truthfully, had Scott really focused on that fact, outside of the thought _“oh shit I just lost my eighty-dollar dollar inhaler. Better find it so my mom doesn’t have to pay for a new one”_ , he would’ve realized how... _strange_ that fact was. After all, he _was_ a severe asthmatic, to the point where he usually needed his inhaler at least once within a forty-eight hour period. To the point where he had been _hospitalized_ the previous year because of one of his attacks, even. Yet, despite how profoundly shocking this fact, was Scott _hadn’t_ really focused on it because...well...

...His life for the past few days had been absolutely _great_.

Seriously! Because, over the past few days, Scott had not only achieved his goal of becoming a first-line defense player on the BHHS lacrosse team, he had not only caught the attention of Allison Argent, but he had also been invited to Lydia Martin’s party that Friday night as well – and by Allison, no less! Granted, the dark-haired girl had only asked him in an offhanded way during their shared English class – _“Hey, Lydia’s having a party this Friday night. You should come, Scott.”_ – but that was enough for him. Especially with the way she flushed when she said it.

...But, unfortunately, it wasn’t enough for _Stiles_.

“I just think it’s weird, that’s all,” his best friend said as the two of them trudged along through the preserve, the autumn leaves crunching beneath their feet as they did so. “Don’t you? I – I mean, no offense, Scott, but you catching the eye of the new girl, _that_ I get. You’re adorkable and it’s honestly surprising that you haven’t been chased after by any other girls – or boys – up until now. But...you suddenly being the best player on the lacrosse team? You making _first-line_ on the lacrosse team? It’s almost like you got injected with Captain America’s serum or something – and isn’t _that_ an idea, with the way that Coach Finstock’s been looking at you?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Har dee har har,” he said, because although he wouldn’t admit it, he _was_ feeling a little more irritated than usual at Stiles’s words. At her lack of belief in him. And he didn’t know why. “Coach isn’t going to make me a captain or co-captain or anything like that. He just noticed how much work I’ve put into practicing, unlike you.”

“You call catching a ball that not even Danny could catch ‘just practicing’?” Stiles retorted. “Scott, you haven’t even practiced for his position!”

“Yeah, because Danny is so good,” he countered, before he frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “And since when are you talking to Danny, anyways? Doesn’t he hate you still for you putting water in his tuba back in the seventh grade?”

“It was oil, Scotty, don’t you remember?” Stiles replied with a grin. “And yeah, he does. Of course he does! But, he doesn’t hate _you_ , especially with that performance you gave at try-outs. If I didn’t know any better, I’d even say he found you... _attractive_.”

Scott immediately flushed. “Danny isn’t my type, Stiles!” he protested. “You know that.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” his best friend sighed. “Think of all of the hot guys that you could’ve hooked me up with ‘cause of them being friends with Danny if he was. Your type, I mean.

“Oh!” Stiles suddenly exclaimed, before she turned to look at him properly with wide, amber eyes. “That reminds me. You’re not going to believe what the forensics found on that Jane Doe’s body.”

Scott tried not to snicker, because _really_ , talking about Danny and other hot guys reminded her of forensics and the dead body he had found in the woods? Still, knowing better than to voice his opinions on such matters, the sixteen-year-old boy shrugged and asked, “What?”

“Animal hair,” Stiles replied. “Specifically the hair of a _wolf_. I guess you were right all along about being bitten by a wolf that night.”

“...Huh,” Scott said, before a triumphant smirk settled on his face. “See, I told you so! And you were all ‘oh, no, Scott, wolves are locally extinct in California, you couldn’t have heard a wolf howl’!”

Stiles waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah,” she said. But then, a curious... _twinkle_ , for lack of a better word, appeared in her eyes. A twinkle that, had Scott not been feeling so triumphant over his actually being right for once, he would’ve known spelled nothing but mischief. “But, you do know what _that_ means, right, Scotty?”

“What?” Scott asked with a grin. He was still feeling too elated about the entire thing.

“Well...” Stiles hummed as she shoved her hands into her flannel’s pockets. “I’m not saying that it’s for sure, but you being bitten by a wolf _could_ mean that you got infected with something. Something that’s only specific to wolves.”

Scott frowned, the elation he had been feeling gone just as quickly as it had arrived. “You’re joking,” he accused.

“Nope,” Stiles replied with a pop of the ‘p’. “But, I don’t think you’ve got it. If you did, you’d be experiencing...oh, I don’t know...something like enhanced vision and healing and maybe a fever, alongside your enhanced prowess as of late. Although, now that I think about it,” here, she suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist, “you _do_ feel kind of warm. Maybe even hot.”

Scott immediately thought back to Allison’s scent, the scent that wasn’t perfume, the scent that he was still able to smell earlier today, as if he wasn’t able to become accustomed to it.

His frown deepened.

“This...this infection,” he said slowly. “It’s not... _serious_ , is it? I – I mean, a doctor could treat it, right?”

“Oh, no, it _is_ serious,” Stiles replied somberly, “and there’s nothing a doctor could do about it. Thankfully, though, it’s only _really_ serious at a certain time of the month.”

“A certain time of the month?” Scott asked.

Stiles nodded. “On the night of the full moon.”

Suddenly, what she was talking about _clicked_ in his brain. With a scowl, Scott pulled his wrist away from her and used the arm that it was connected to to playfully shove her away. “Danny’s right. You _are_ an ass,” he accused.

“I believe he said ‘bitch’,” Stiles corrected, before she grinned again. “Besides, I’m not the one that has to be worried – _you_ were the one that got bitten by that wolf! And really, you should’ve gone to the doctor’s about it already. I mean, what if that wolf had rabies or something? _That_ is a serious disease. And it’s real.”

“The wolf did _not_ have rabies,” Scott replied.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”

“I just...” Scott began, before he frowned. What he was going to say next sounded dumb, even to his own mind. “I just _know_ , okay?”

Predictably, his best friend scoffed in response. “That’s lame,” she declared. She also looked like she wanted to say something else, but before she could –

“Hey, this is private property!” a voice coming from just behind Scott shouted.

Scott turned.

There, steadily approaching them, was a boy around their age, maybe a little bit older. He had gelled black hair, hazel eyes, and a skin tone that was maybe halfway between Scott’s and Stiles’s. He was also wearing a black leather jacket and black jeans, as if any other color was a personal affront to him or something like that.

But, most importantly, the boy was also _attractive_. And even if Scott _was_ bisexual, this was a fact he noted with some mild surprise, up until –

“ _Hey_ , Derek,” Stiles said, purposely drawing out the first word of the sentence. “Wha – what are you doing here?”

Scott blinked in surprise. _This guy_ was Derek Hale? The guy that Stiles had kept on casually mentioning since Monday, but kept forgetting to point out to him during lunch or in the hallways? Somehow, he wasn’t anything like Scott had imagined.

But, then again, Scott hadn’t exactly had a basis for _what_ he imagined in the first place, considering the fact that he had hardly been able to remember the other boy as it was.

“This is private property,” Derek repeated, albeit with a glare leveled towards Stiles for good measure. “Meaning _I_ should be the one asking _you_ what _you’re_ doing here, not the other way around.”

Stiles, at least, had enough tact to wince. “S – sorry,” she said, before she roughly grabbed Scott’s arm. “We’ll just be going now...”

But Scott resisted his best friend’s efforts to flee. After all, while they _may_ have been on private property, they were also looking for his inhaler. Surely, Derek would be at least a little understanding of that, considering the circumstances?

With those thoughts in mind, Scott nervously coughed and said, “We’re just looking for my inhaler. I – uh – lost it out here the other night. Have you found it? Or, at least – ”

Suddenly, something was flying towards him, causing Scott to blink and catch the thing – whatever it was – in midair.

Once he caught it, though, he looked down.

_It was his inhaler._

Scott breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey, thanks – ”

“You should really be more careful about losing your possessions in the woods next time,” Derek interjected, interrupting any other forms of gratitude that Scott could give, causing him to blink again.

But, before he could ask the other boy just _what_ exactly he meant by that, by _“next time”_ , Derek Hale was already walking away, his hands shoved into his black leather jacket.

With a frown and a shake of his head, Scott pocketed his inhaler. Then, he turned to look at Stiles. “Come on,” he said. “I have to get to work.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles muttered as she rolled her eyes. “I’ll drive you, Mr. I’m-sixteen-but-still-don’t-have-a-license.”

~~~

The next day, Scott and Stiles were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria, eating their food...and by that, I mean “eating” their food. Because while Stiles was too busy picking at the meatloaf and grey mashed potatoes on her tray with a glare, Scott was too busy telling her about what had happened that morning to actually eat.

“Seriously, it was the strangest thing,” he said. “I mean, you know me! I don’t snore, much less sleepwalk. And yet, somehow, I wound up sleepwalking through the woods and into this guy’s pool, three miles away. The guy was nice enough to give me a ride home, but I’m not sure if he even believed me.”

“...I’m not even sure if _I_ believe you,” Stiles muttered as she purposely broke her plastic fork in the meatloaf with a grimace of disgust.

Scott frowned. “Hey, what do you mean by – ” he began to ask.

But, before he could finish his sentence, a tray clattered onto the table right next to Stiles.

Both of them looked up.

“What’s this about sleepwalking?” Derek Hale asked as he sat down right next to Stiles, as if it was completely normal for him to do such a thing and not, well... _not_.

“D – Derek?” Stiles spluttered, her eyes wide.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” the boy said with a roll of his eyes in response.

“Well... _yeah_ ,” the dark-haired girl said. “But – like – no offense – but, what are you doing here sitting with...” here, she gestured between herself and Scott, “ _us_?”

It was Derek’s turn to frown now. “Is there anywhere else I should be sitting?” he asked.

Scott snorted before he took a sip of his milk, while Stiles scoffed. “‘Is there anywhere else I should be sitting’?” she mocked, before she scowled. “What, are Jackson Whittemore and Lydia Martin not good enough for you and your – your – ”

Stiles flushed.

Derek raised an eyebrow, obviously expecting her to finish whatever it was that she was going to say. When it became clear, though, that she _wasn’t_ , he turned to look at Scott expectantly. “So,” he said. “Are you going to the party Friday night? I heard Allison Argent asked you to come.”

“And where did you hear that from?” Scott asked, confused. After all, if the other boy was sitting with _them_ and not with the likes of Jackson and Lydia, then that probably meant he wasn’t really hanging out with them. And, if that was the case, then how – ?

“Just answer the question,” Derek said, the casual expression on his face hardening.

“Uh, yeah, I – I guess,” Scott said with a shrug. “I mean, that was the plan, anyways. Why?”

Derek’s expression hardened even further. “Because,” he replied. “You can’t go.”

“What?” Scott said after he snorted again, fully expecting Derek to laugh and just say it was a joke or something stupid like that. However, when the other boy did no such thing, he frowned again and added, “What do you mean, ‘I can’t go’?”

“...Because,” Derek said after a moment of hesitation.

“...What does that even _mean_?” Stiles scoffed.

Derek glared at her, causing Scott’s best friend to glare at him back. Eventually, though, after a few moments of them doing nothing but glaring at each other, Derek looked up and around. Once he saw that no one else was watching them – but really, _who_ would be watching them? And why did Scott think that somebody would be? – he leaned forward and whispered, “The bite on your side is completely healed, isn’t it?”

Immediately, Scott fell back into his chair, stunned. He hadn’t told anyone about the fact that he had discovered the bite had completely healed last night, because, well, the only person who had known about the bite was _Stiles_. And he hadn’t felt like listening to her freak out about it yet, hadn’t felt like listening to her come up with some freaky answer for what had been an equally freaky discovery. So, how did he –

“How did you know?” Scott whispered.

Derek fell back into his seat with a satisfied expression, conveniently ignoring the wide-eyed look that Stiles was giving the two of them. “Because, I do,” he said. “Just like how I know your asthma has suddenly cleared up. Just like how I know your vision, hearing, and sense of smell have gotten a million times better. And just like how I know Allison Argent’s scent smells utterly _delectable_ to you – which is _really_ fucked up, by the way. Seriously. Out of all of the potential mates you could have chosen, you went with – ”

“Hold on!” Stiles protested, a fierce look coming to her eyes. “Hale, just what the ever-loving- _fuck_ are you talking about? ‘Potential mates’? Scott’s asthma ‘suddenly clearing up’? Dude, what are you even smo – ”

“This doesn’t concern you, _Stilinski_ ,” Derek snapped back, and for a second – _just_ a second – Scott could’ve sworn he saw a golden glow appear in the other boy’s eyes.

“Like hell it doesn’t!” Stiles scoffed. “This is my best friend you’re talking about!”

Derek suddenly stood up, causing the chair he was sitting in to go crashing into the table behind him. Thankfully, no one was sitting there, but the sound was loud enough that, for a moment, all of their classmates and peers looked up, shocked.

“...Look,” Derek hissed at Scott, his voice low. “You know I’m right. You know that everything I just said is true. Your heartbeat says so. So, _listen_ to me. You can’t go to that party on Friday. You just can’t. You need to come to my house instead. Here’s the address,” here, the other boy pulled out a small, folded piece of paper to Scott, which he reluctantly took, too stunned to do otherwise. “You come, I’ll explain everything to you, I promise. But you need to come, and you need to come alone.”

“And if I – if I don’t?” Scott asked. Why, he didn’t know – he had no intentions of listening to a boy who he had hardly even remembered up until now – but there was... _something_ , something inside him that was begging to ask. Begging to know.

“Then I can’t promise you what will happen,” Derek said with another glare.

Then, before Scott and Stiles could say or do anything else, the other boy grabbed his tray and walked away, not even bothering to pick up the chair that was now lying on the floor as he did so.

And although he didn’t really believe anything Derek had just said, despite how right the other boy had been, in that moment, as Scott watched him walk away, he felt...was it fear? Dread? Both? He didn’t know.

...What he _did_ know, though, was that, in that moment, Scott thought that Derek _may_ have just been right. That maybe he should go to Derek’s house, wherever it was, just to listen to what he had to say. After all, it couldn’t be that bad...could it?

But just as soon as the moment had come, it was gone, and so were any of his thoughts that gave Derek even the slightest benefit of the doubt. He was going to go to the party that Friday night. He was going to have a fun time. And maybe, _just_ maybe, he’d even get to kiss Allison.

...And maybe he’d even get to do _more_ than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Title: TBD (maybe “The Party Pt. 1”? I’m not sure if I want a split-chapter this soon lol)


	4. Friday Night Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter. College and my health issues have basically taken over my health for the past couple of months. I am currently working on the next chapter as I post this, though, so hopefully it’ll be posted rather soon, although I make no promises.
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> ~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

**“... _So_ ,” Stiles said emphatically – and awkwardly – that Friday afternoon as the two of them sat in her room – Stiles at her computer desk, Scott on her bed – and worked on their homework.** “Scott. Have you...uh...have you...?”

“Have I _what_ , Stiles?” Scott asked irritably, before he winced, sighed, and then looked up at his best friend apologetically. Despite what the dark-haired girl was probably already thinking by his tone of voice, he wasn’t mad at her. Hell, he wasn’t even _irritated_ at her, even if she had been acting a little weird over the past couple of days. No, instead he was irritated over the impossible set of Biology I questions that their teacher, Mr. Harris, had assigned them for the weekend. It seemed like the man loved to come up with more and more ways to torture his students, and his abilities to irritate and annoy were far more powerful than Stiles’s could ever be. “Sorry. You were saying?”

Stiles sighed then, before she ran a hand through her hair. “Okay,” she said after a moment, once she had probably freaked Scott out enough – because her doing both of the things she had just did were _never_ good signs. Never at all. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but I was just wondering if...if-you-had-given-any-thought-to-what-Derek-Hale-said-the-other-day. That’s all.”

Scott blinked. “What?” he asked.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Stiles asked, her voice suddenly sharp. When Scott nodded, she rolled her eyes and said in an agonizingly slow voice, “Have. You. Given. Any. Thought. To. What. Derek. Hale. Said?”

Now, Scott frowned. “...No?” he admitted after a few moments, both knowing that that somehow wasn’t the answer his best friend wanted and confused about why she was even curious about the whole thing in the first place. “But...why would I? I mean, the guy’s kind of...I don’t know, _weird_ , don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Stiles allowed with a hint of humor in her voice, before she added in a much more serious tone, “But...he was right, wasn’t he?”

“...Right about what?” Scott asked.

Suddenly, Scott found himself on the receiving end of one of his best friend’s signature glares. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Scott!” she snapped. “You _know_ what I’m talking about. And even if you somehow _don’t_ , let me remind you. Derek said that he knew that your ‘wolf’ bite was completely healed, that your asthma had suddenly cleared up, and that your senses were now a million times better. Oh, and he said something about you and _Allison_ too,” his best friend added, with a specialized emphasis on the other girl’s name and a scrunched up face, “but I’m not going to bother repeating that part, because judging by the look on your face you already know what I’m talking about. So. He was right, wasn’t he?”

Scott blinked.

“ _Wasn’t he_?” Stiles asked again when he didn’t do anything else in response.

“I – yeah, I guess,” Scott replied instinctively, before he coughed. “S – sort of, anyways. But, why does it matter? Like I said, he was probably just being weird or something.”

“ _No_ ,” Stiles retorted with a shake of her head. “Being weird is asking stuff like that to pull a prank, not because you _know_ that you’re right. And Derek _did_ , Scott. He knew that he was right. And even if you don’t seem to be that concerned with how he knew he was right, I _am_. I’ve been so concerned, in fact, that I’ve been doing some research into how he could’ve possibly known without being a creepy stalker or something like that. And I think I’ve found some answers.”

Before Scott could protest what she was saying or even ask what she meant by “answers,” his best friend suddenly stood and grabbed a pile of papers off of her desk, a pile of papers that he hadn’t noticed sitting there before. Then, before he could say or do anything, she walked over and thrust them into her lap.

“Hey!” Scott protested as the pile of papers covered up his infuriating Biology I questions.

Even as he protested, though, _something_ about the papers caught his eye. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. Maybe it was the fact that all of the papers were PDF forms of websites, or maybe it was the fact that there were several words on each page that Stiles had obviously carefully highlighted, words like _WOLFSBANE_ , _SILVER BULLETS_ , _LYCAON_ , and _ACONITE_. Still, though, whatever it was, instead of making him shove the papers away with another protest or maybe a lighthearted joke, it made him finger them gently, as if they were thin pages of loaned textbooks instead of...

...Well, he didn’t really know what else they would be outside of exactly what they were, which was printed PDFs of sketchy websites.

“I know I joked about it before,” Stiles said, her voice, her tone now much more tender and sympathetic. “I know that I implied that I didn’t think it was real, but this time...this time, Scott, _I’m serious_. I mean, it all adds up! The wolf hair that was found on that Jane Doe’s body, the wolf howl that you heard, Derek knowing everything...

“I mean, do you even know why a wolf howls, Scott?” Stiles asked, and even as he felt the irritation swell up inside his chest – irritation at her, because _no_ , Scott wasn’t an idiot, despite what it seemed like so many people liked to think. He had already put together the pieces of what she was saying, what she was implying, and he didn’t like them. Not one bit – Scott looked up at her and shook his head.

“It’s a signal,” Stiles explained. “When a wolf is alone, it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack. So, if you heard howling, then it’s easy to assume that there must be others out there, right? _Right_?”

“...I guess,” Scott grumbled. “But, Stiles – ”

“But that’s the thing, Scott,” Stiles continued as her tone became more frantic. “If there was a pack of wolves in Beacon Hills – which there _isn’t_ because there are no wolves in California, but let’s just say that there was – my dad would’ve heard about it by now. There’s always hikers and campers in the woods, after all. _Somebody_ would’ve seen them there. _Somebody_ would’ve reported that they were there. So, seeing as how no one has, on both accounts, what else must we assume?”

“ _No_ ,” Scott said emphatically as he gathered up the PDF papers, stacked them together, and set them aside. “No, Stiles. I’m _not_ a werewolf. Werewolves don’t exist.”

“Uh, huh,” Stiles hummed, nonplussed. “Then how do you explain Derek being right about all of your symptoms, _knowing_ that he was right about all of your symptoms?”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied, his voice subdued. “Maybe he’s a creepy stalker, like you said. Either way, I don’t care. I’m going to go to Lydia’s party tonight, regardless of what he said, or what...”

 _...Or what you think,_ he added silently.

Stiles, though, seemed to pick up on the silent addition, because in an instant she was crossing her arms and rolling her arms. “Okay, you don’t believe me,” she scoffed. “Even though I’m your best friend and I would never prank you like this. Prank others, yes, but not _you_. But whatever. Even if you don’t believe me, Scott, just think about this:

“Tonight is the full moon. I checked. And do you know what werewolves do on the night of the full moon?” Without waiting for an answer, his best friend plowed on, “They _lose their minds_ , Scott. They became bloodthirsty, and they attack people. They _kill_ people. Knowing that, do you still want to go to Lydia’s stupid party tonight just as much as you did five seconds ago, even if you don’t really believe what I’m saying?”

 _Yes,_ Scott’s mind immediately replied. _Because Allison’s going to be there, because Allison –_

Wait. _Allison_.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Scott suddenly asked, before he, too, got to his feet. He couldn’t believe the thought hadn’t occurred to him before now, even as it made him angry, _so_ angry. “You don’t want me to go to the party, not because you believe Derek, but because you’re jealous. That’s _it_ , isn’t it?”

Stiles blinked. “I – _what_?” she spluttered, even as her face turned a vicious shade of red. “I’m not jealous, Scott. I’m just trying to – ”

“Really?” Scott retorted. “Is that why your face is so red then?”

When Stiles didn’t immediately reply, Scott shook his head and clenched his hands into fists, even as the latter action stung – just a little. “Look, I – I don’t want to be mean, Stiles,” Scott said viciously, and hated himself for it all the while. “But, I’m not going to listen to you anymore. I’m going to Lydia’s party tonight, whether you like it or not. I’m going to have fun with Allison, whether you like it or not. Because Allison – ”

_Smells like thorns and gunpowder and vanilla. Has a smile that makes my day. Has beautiful brown eyes, a kind face. Has..._

Without another word, Scott grabbed his bag, before he shoved his Biology I questions into it. He couldn’t stay here, listening to Stiles, listening to her jealousy. Even if he felt for his best friend – even if he was angry at himself for not realizing up until now just how jealous she was – he had to get out. He had to go home.

“Scott,” Stiles suddenly said, begged, _pleaded_ , her voice cracking halfway through his name.

“...I’ll talk to you later, Stiles,” Scott muttered.

And then, before his best friend could say or do anything else, he was gone.

~~~

After having gone home and spent a few hours doing nothing but calming himself down, Scott walked out of his bathroom and into his bedroom, feeling much lighter than he had before. He was all set and ready to go to Lydia’s party and spend some time with Allison...

...Or, at least, he would be, once he picked out an outfit to wear, that is.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his doorframe, causing Scott to look up in surprise and tighten the hand that was keeping the towel wrapped around his waist there.

“Mom!” Scott exclaimed.

“Knock, knock,” Melissa McCall said, a gentle smile on her face. Then, as her smile widened, she added, “I just wanted to come check in and make sure everything was alright for your... _date_.”

“It’s just a party, Mom,” Scott groaned.

“Mmhmm,” his mother hummed as she stepped into the room. “But, you’re only going because of a girl, right?” When Scott nodded, her smile then turned into a proper grin and she asked, “And just what is the girl’s name...?”

“Allison,” Scott then admitted. “Allison Argent.”

“A pretty name,” his mom replied with a nod. Then, with a curious look, she said, “Okay, now, be honest with me. Are you planning to have... _sex_ with this Allison?”

Scott spluttered. “I – no!” he protested, despite the fact that a pretty large part of his mind shouted _Yes!_

“Mmhmm,” his mother hummed again. “Well, just in case you do anyways, I just want to be clear. You know how to put on a condom, right?”

“Mom!”

His mother laughed. “Oh, don’t ‘Mom’ me,” she said. “If there’s absolutely one thing that I will kill you for doing, it is practicing unsafe sex and getting this girl pregnant. You’re both too young for that. So, I ask again: do you know how to put on a condom, or do I need to show you... _again_?”

“No!” Scott said with a flushed face, before he hurriedly added, “I – I know, Mom. You don’t need to show me again.”

His mom nodded. “Good, good,” she said. “And Stiles is picking you up from the party, right?”

Scott winced. He wasn’t sure how willing Stiles was going to be to do, well... _anything_ for him for a while after their fight earlier.

“...Scott?” his mom asked.

“I – yeah,” Scott said after a moment. Said. _Lied_. Same difference. “She’ll pick me up from the party.”

“Good,” his mom said again. “Although, if you need me, don’t be afraid to call, Scott. I’ll come pick you up, no matter what. My boss won’t fire me... _probably_.”

With another laugh to let him know that she was joking, his mother came closer and patted his cheek before she walked out of his room. She made sure to shut the door behind her as she left, though, so that Scott would have all of the privacy he needed in order to change.

 _...Change,_ Scott thought with a snort as he let the towel around his waist go, before reaching into his closest for the clothes that he would need.

~~~

...Now, here’s the thing:

Scott, as a relative social outcast for...well, his _entire life_ , had never been to a party before. Not a high school party with booze and music and drugs, not a middle school party with also music and maybe some booze, and certainly not an elementary school birthday party with music and pizza and God knows what else. It just seemed like, with the exception of Stiles, no one had ever been interested in inviting him to those types of things – or, at least, no one until _Allison_ , that is.

So, when Scott attended Lydia’s party that night, sufficient to say, he had no idea what to expect, outside of the loud music and booze and drugs. And certainly, as he walked through Lydia’s house, which was full of drunk teenagers – _already_ , even though he had just arrived at fifteen after eight – all three of those things were already accounted for, and then some. In fact, the second of those three things was accounted for so much that Scott could practically _smell_ the drunkenness of his fellow teenagers in the air, along with a sickly-sweet pseudo-scent that he didn’t recognize and didn’t care to stay inside long enough to find out what it was.

No, instead of staying in the house, Scott instead made his way through it and into the backyard, which was more of a pool area than it was an _actual_ backyard, where he assumed Allison would be. And sure enough, he wasn’t mistaken, because just as soon as he stepped into the backyard and immediately caught sight of a familiar head of dark brown curls, that thorns-and-gunpowder-and-vanilla scent caught his nose.

“Allison!” Scott greeted with a gentle smile as he walked towards the girl, his voice loud enough to catch her attention, but also not loud enough to make everyone else turn their way.

Immediately, the dark-haired girl turned around to look at him, and a wide smile spread across her face. “Scott! Oh, I’m so glad you could make it!” she said, and was blissfully unaware of how his heart sped up at her words. She was glad he was here. _Glad_. “I mean, I know you’re probably not one for parties, but other than Lydia you’re really the only person I know right now and Lydia, well, is – ”

“Currently too busy making out with Jackson?” Scott guessed. He didn’t need to see them to know what they were doing.

Allison smiled, flushed, and nodded. “Yeah,” she admitted, before her eyes flitted across the backyard. “So, um...what do you want to do? We could talk, or drink, or...I don’t know. I haven’t been to too many parties before. I’ve never even gotten drunk.”

 _I’d be fine with talking,_ Scott wanted to say, because there was _so much_ he wanted to talk with Allison about. Like, his feelings for her. Did she like him the way he liked her? Did she somehow like him _more_ than that? And what would she think about Stiles being jealous of her? Would she think that Stiles was jealous as a best friend or jealous as something... _more_? Because Scott hadn’t been able to decide in the hours since their argument and the more he thought about it, the more he realized he wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Instead of saying all of that, though, Scott instead said with a grin, “I’ve never been to a party before, but I have gotten drunk. Once. With Stiles. We drank a bunch of tequila, and to be honest, I’m still not too sure what we did that night, only that I had a killer hangover the next day.”

Allison laughed. “Stiles seems like a nice friend,” she commented.

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Scott confirmed, but then turned to look over at where the beer keg was not-so-innocuously perched. “Hey, do you want something to drink? We don’t have to get drunk, but...”

“Sure,” Allison immediately agreed with another smile, before she added, “Just get me a cup from the keg. I’m not a fan of beer, but I’m pretty sure Lydia spiked everything else to the point where we _will_ get drunk after just one glass.”

Chuckling, Scott nodded and walked over to the keg. Grabbing two of the red plastic cups offered on top of it, he pressed on the handle and watched as the beer poured out of the keg. Once he made sure that there was enough – but not too much – inside for Allison, he then set it aside and grabbed the cup that he had set aside for himself.

...And of course, that was exactly when Scott also caught a certain figure _glaring_ at him out of the corner of his eye.

Looking up, Scott turned and saw _Derek fucking Hale himself_ standing at the gate of Lydia’s backyard. The glare on his face was vicious, as if he wanted to do nothing more than yell at Scott for another five minutes about how he should’ve gone to Derek’s place instead of Lydia’s, but there was also something...else in his expression, too. Maybe it was hurt? But no, that didn’t seem quite right... _betrayal_ seemed like a more accurate fit. But why would Derek feel betrayed at Scott not trusting him, after how he had acted the other day?

“Hey,” the rough voice of one of the senior members of the lacrosse team suddenly said, breaking Scott out of his reverie. “Are you gonna just stand in front of the keg all night, or are you actually going to fill up your cup?”

“Oh,” Scott replied, the tips of his ears reddening, before he hurriedly filled up his cup, grabbed Allison’s, and stepped off to the side. “Uh, sorry.”

But the other teenager was no longer paying attention to him, now too preoccupied with taking a chug of beer directly from the keg itself.

 _Gross,_ Scott thought with a scrunched-up face, before he turned back to look at where Derek had been standing.

Much to his surprise, though, the other boy was already gone.

Shaking his head, Scott walked back to Allison. _Nothing_ , he promised himself. _Nothing else was going to interrupt his time with Allison tonight._ Not Derek, not Stiles, not the other teenagers...

...Not even the moonlight that was now pressing into the back of his neck, pressing in a way that he had never felt before.

Because werewolves didn’t exist.

They just didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Title: Friday Night Pt. 2


	5. Friday Night Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is my first time writing smut. I am also very inexperienced in the sex department. Despite this, though, I have tried to avoid as many stereotypes of smut that are unrealistic or I hate, so I hope that this is a relatively enjoyable experience and not completely cringeworthy.  
> \--  
> Despite the above disclaimer, this chapter basically wrote itself lol! I’m fairly satisfied with the results, but just in case, yeah, the disclaimer was necessary. The next chapter is also already done, but I’m going to wait until tomorrow to post it.
> 
> Until then,  
> ~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

**What felt like a few hours later, but must have only been an hour at most, Scott and Allison were...not dancing, but certainly _swaying_ to the music that was blaring in their ears.** Neither of them had more to drink than their first cups of beer, but Scott...

...Well, Scott felt _great_. The greatest he had ever felt since pretty much _ever_ , even. It wasn’t like he had felt before when he had had alcohol, when he and Stiles had first been buzzed and then blackout drunk after sharing an entire bottle of tequila, but it certainly wasn’t like the high that he had felt when he had broken his arm at the age of eleven and been given enough morphine to not feel the pain.

... _Not_ that he particularly cared to dwell in how good he was feeling, though. No, all Scott cared about was the good time that he was having, and the good time that Allison was having, too.

Which was exactly why he asked her a moment later, “Having fun?”

Allison gave him a brilliant smile. “Loads,” she said, before she looked up at him from underneath her long eyelashes that Scott had somehow never noticed before. “How about you? Are you having...fun?”

“Loads,” Scott admitted with a grin. When Allison laughed at that, his smile somehow widened, and a new thought suddenly occurred to him. There had been a question he had wanted to ask her, ever since they first met that Monday.

So, without further ado, Scott said a little awkwardly, “Hey, there’s been something that...something that I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Allison raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” she asked, but her voice...it didn’t sound _bad_. It didn’t sound like she was already disinterested, anyways, and that just had to be a good thing...right?

“I...well, I know you like me – as a – as a friend,” Scott said, hurriedly adding the last part so that Allison wouldn’t take his statement as the wrong way and perceive him to be a creepy guy or something like that. “But, I was just wondering...I was just wondering if, maybe you liked me...more than that?”

Allison blinked, and for a moment that lasted _way_ too long, Scott’s heart skidded to a stop inside his chest.

But then, she _smiled_.

“I do,” the dark-haired girl confirmed.

“ _Great_ ,” Scott breathed, the relief washing through him like a tidal wave, or maybe even a wildfire, before he coughed and said, “I – I mean, that’s great, because I do too. I like you, as more than a friend.”

Allison laughed. “Well, I figured,” she said.

Scott grinned.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything else, too caught up looking at each other, and yes – as cliché as it sounds – into each other’s eyes. Allison’s eyes were so dark that the full moon was reflected in them rather brilliantly, and as soon as Scott realized that, a new thought sprung to his mind.

“Can I – can I kiss you now?” he asked.

Allison smiled, before she reached up and whispered, “You can.”

_And then her lips were on his._

Their kiss was relatively chaste, for what it’s worth, not at all like the open-mouthed kissing and making out that their peers were doing all around them. But, Scott didn’t care. Because, in that moment, as he kissed Allison, it was like _fireworks_ were going off inside his head, and what’s more, he realized he wanted to _do_ more. He didn’t just want to kiss her.

And this time, his own mind wasn’t going to stop him.

...And maybe that was why everything after that went a little... _hazy_. Not – not in a bad way, of course! He had only had _one_ cup of beer, after all. That wasn’t enough to make him even a little tipsy. It was just that, one moment, there he was in Lydia’s backyard, kissing Allison as the rest of the world fell away around them, and then in the next, Allison was slowly leading him up the stairs in Lydia’s house, a grin on her face and a fire in her slightly-glassy eyes.

“I’ve never done this before,” she confided in him as they walked up the stairs. “But, Lydia said it was okay to use her guest bedroom if I wanted – if we wanted some privacy.”

 _Privacy_ , Scott thought delightedly, the word sending shivers down his spine as he leaned in and kissed Allison again. She accepted him joyfully, although she broke apart after a second or two, saying something or other about how they could continue what they were doing inside the guest bedroom.

And continue they did. Because the guest bedroom, while presumably the smallest bedroom in the house, did have a lockable door and a queen-sized bed, which the two of them fell into with a bout of laughter and snorts.

At first, all they did was make out and nothing more. Scott, despite all that he wanted, did _not_ want to pressure Allison or make her do anything that she didn’t want to do. But, as if seemingly knowing this, after a few moments of their kissing until they could hardly breathe, Allison gasped and said, “Do you...do you have a condom?”

“Uh, y – yeah,” Scott said, his fingers fumbling as he reached into his pocket to pull out the object in question. True to their earlier conversation, his mom had made sure that 1) he still had some and 2) he take at least one of those with him before she had dropped him off at the party.

“Great,” Allison breathed. “I’m not – I’m not on the pill. Yet. My parents are pretty strict.”

 _Yet,_ Scott thought giddily. _Did that mean she wanted to do more of this in the future?_

Before he could ponder on that thought any further, though, Allison was suddenly pulling off her shirt, revealing the white lace bra she had been wearing underneath it. Scott’s eyes widened at the sight and his face flushed brilliantly, because he had _never_ seen anything like this before. That was just one of the boundaries that he and Stiles had always refused to cross, regardless of how close they were.

Besides, Allison was _beautiful_. Even with the room being completely dark – because apparently neither of them had remembered to turn on the light – he could see that. He could see the creamy color of her skin, the pattern of moles that danced up the one side of her torso, the flush that was slowly making its way down to her chest that she was already unclasping her bra from.

“Your turn,” Allison whispered once her bra was off.

Not even bothering to stammer out a verbal reply, Scott hastily took his shirt off. Allison watched him do so, a gentle smile spreading across her face all the while.

“Kiss me,” she whispered again, once he was done.

Not needing any other form of encouragement, Scott leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. This kiss, unlike their first but also more like all of the ones that had become in between that one and this one, was _sensual_ , but he didn’t linger with it for long. Instead, Scott moved down Allison’s body, pressing his lips first to her neck, then to her chest, and then to her stomach, some instinctual part of his mind telling him that it was the right thing to do.

And, if Allison’s erratic breaths were anything to go by, that instinct was probably right.

When Scott reached her pants, he looked up at her. “Is it – is it alright if I take these off?” he asked, then added, “I – I mean, we don’t have to go any farther now, if you – if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Allison disagreed. Then, seemingly realizing what else the word could imply, her eyes widened and she said, “I mean, no, I _want_ to do this. Take them off. P – please.”

With a grin, Scott did as he was told, removing both her pants and her underwear in one go. Allison gasped as he did so, but gave him a sharp nod when he looked at her concernedly to continue. Then, his fingers fumbling once more, Scott reached down and removed the last articles of his own clothing as well, until both of them were laying there. Naked. In Lydia’s guest bedroom. In the dark.

Taking in a shuddering breath, Scott leaned forward. “Tell me what to do,” he whispered softly.

Allison bit her lip, but then, gingerly, grabbed one of his hands and placed it on one of her breasts. “Squeeze,” she said. “Not...not too hard, though. Like – oh, _like that_!”

Scott stared with wide eyes how Allison moved underneath his touch, how her back instinctively arched in surprise. It was – _she_ was beautiful, he couldn’t help but think, even if he had already thought that thought a thousand times before.

But he also still had no idea what he was doing.

But then, another thought occurred to him: did he _really_ need to know what he was doing? Neither of them had done this before, Allison had admitted to as much earlier. They were both inexperienced. But inexperienced didn’t mean ‘bad’. It just...meant that they needed to learn. That’s all.

Deciding to act, Scott moved his hand away from her breast. Carefully, gingerly, he instead moved it lower, to where her nethers were, and he cupped his hand there experimentally. Allison didn’t react with more than another gasp at the action, but Scott didn’t expect her to. All he...all he wanted to do was make sure that she was... _that it wouldn’t be too painful,_ he forced himself to think, and judging by the wetness that was on his fingertips, it most definitely wouldn’t be.

It was then and only then that Scott rolled on the condom. Allison watched him do it with another bite of her lip, but then, once the condom was on, she reached out and grabbed his dick gingerly. And even though there was rubber separating the two of them, her touch was like _electricity_ , and Scott had to resist the urge to gasp as she carefully led him into position.

“Do it,” she whispered.

So, slowly, Scott thrust forward.

And this time, he couldn’t hold in his gasp.

Because whatever he had ever heard about sex, whatever his mom or Stiles or the TV had told him, _nothing_ could’ve prepared him for how it felt, to be inside Allison. She was just...she was just so _warm_ , just so _all-encompassing_ , like nothing that he had ever felt or experienced before.

Once he had gotten used to the feeling, Scott looked down at Allison, making sure not to move too much as he did so. Much to his horror, though, her face was scrunched up, her eyes squeezed tight, like she was in much more pain than he thought she would be.

And he didn’t want that.

“Allison – ” he began.

“Don’t!” she hissed in response. When he jerked in surprise at her tone, she reached out and grabbed one of his arms. “Don’t – just – just give me a second, okay?”

Scott did. He gave her more than a few seconds, even – not that he was counting. He was just so concerned for her; he didn’t want to do anything that she wouldn’t like or didn’t want to do. Finally, though, after what felt like an eternity of him staring at her, waiting for her to either tell him to continue or to pull out, Allison opened her eyes, nodded once, and said, “Do it again.”

Scott rolled his hips.

“ _Oh_ ,” Allison breathed, her eyes fluttering.

Taking that as a sign to continue, Scott thrust forward again. And again. And again. And again. At first, he kept a rather slow pace, wanting to only go as fast as Allison wanted to, but then she was whispering _“faster”_ over and over again under her breath, causing him to go faster and then both of them were grunting or moaning or whatever else you’d like to call it.

There was a downside to this, though: at some point, one of Scott’s arms gave out from underneath him, and, cursing, he tried to maneuver it so that the rest of him wouldn’t collapse on top of Allison as well.

Somehow, though, that meant that his hand was squeezing Allison’s breast once again, although judging by the moan she gave out at the action, she wasn’t complaining.

For a little while longer, they continued like that, _fucking_ like the two horny teenagers that they were. Neither of them had reached an orgasm yet – which, if Scott was a little more experienced and a little less preoccupied, he would’ve found a little strange. After all, this _was_ their first time having sex. Both of them. It probably should’ve been quick and messy and awkward, but it wasn’t.

But, even if he _had_ been able to find that part of their whole situation strange, it wouldn’t have mattered anyways. Because soon, Scott found himself approaching some sort of – some sort of high, one that wasn’t sex-related or alcohol-induced. And it was turning his vision red, making it so that everything looked all distorted-looking –

– And suddenly, Scott knew what he had to do.

Before Allison could say or do anything, he was nuzzling her throat, and then her shoulder. A noise built up in the back of his throat, something akin to a purr or a growl. And there was also a distinctive _swelling_ at the base of his dick, something that he had also never felt before, but his instincts told him was _natural_ , that it was all just part of whatever it was that he was doing.

“Scott,” Allison gasped. “Scott, wait – !”

But Scott couldn’t wait. Not anymore.

With another burst of that strange noise, he unclenched his jaw and bit down – bit into warm flesh, at the same time that he came. Blood pooled into his mouth, blood that was coopery and not at all sweet, even if the thought of it was.

 _Mine,_ Scott thought. _Mine, mine, mine..._

At once, Allison cried out in pain. At first, all she could do was gasp chokingly, but then, then she was crying, sobbing, a muffled scream pouring from her lips.

“Scott!” she cried. “Scott, what did you – !”

Scott silenced her, not with a kiss to the lips, but instead with a tender hand to her chest. He didn’t know how, exactly, it worked, but somehow his veins were turning black and he was pulling the pain out of her. And once the pain was gone, the dark-haired girl slowly slumped, her eyes closing shut as she succumbed to sleep.

And not even a few seconds later, once he saw that his ministrations were done, Scott followed her.

~~~

_“ – have a key or not?”_

_“Of course I do, but – ”_

_“No ‘but’s’...matter of life and death, don’t you – ”_

_“Fine. But they’re probably just – ALLISON!”_

_“SCOTT!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Title: Saturday Morning
> 
> Ending Notes: Heed the tags, y’all. ;)


	6. Saturday Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter, as possible! The one after this will be posted on Saturday. Believe me, I’m just as shocked as you guys are.
> 
> Until then,
> 
> ~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

**For the first time in, well... _ever_ , Scott woke up that morning feeling _great_.** Every muscle in his body was relaxed, every joint untaught, and there was a distinctive feeling of _bliss_ that radiated all over his body...

...Although, to be fair, that may have just been the feeling of the lazy-morning sun warming him up.

The point is, Scott felt _good_ , even if he couldn’t remember the day that “that morning” fell on. He felt good, even if he couldn’t remember hardly anything that had happened last night. And he felt good, even as he moved closer to a distinctive, _human_ warmth that had never been in his bed before, a warmth that he knew had a name, a name that was just on the tip of his tongue.

And, of course, it was then and only then that a voice that _definitely_ did not belong in his bedroom said: “You _idiot_.”

Scott’s eyes snapped open.

There, standing in his bedroom, leaning into the wall that was the opposite of his bed, was none other than Derek Hale. Once again, he was wearing a black leather jacket along with a pair of black jeans, but this time, unlike the first three times that Scott had seen him, there was this utter look of _disdain_ on his face. As if Scott had just done something that had made him both more disgusted and more irritated than he had ever been before.

And that was when Scott realized that something was horribly, horribly _wrong_.

“What – what are you doing in my room?” he asked, as his eyes flitted nervously about the four familiar walls. Something was wrong. Something _had_ to be wrong. That was the only explanation for why Derek Hale was in his room, acting like the creepy stalker that he probably was, and as Scott turned to look out the window, to see if Derek had somehow broken it open and that that was how he had gotten in, he suddenly realized what it was.

“Allison!” he gasped.

Because yes, there Allison was, his crush, sleeping in his bed. _Naked_. Belatedly, Scott realized that he was naked too, but that wasn’t as concerning as the fact that there was now a giant scar on her shoulder, a distinctive impression of a semi-human bite.

 _His bite,_ Scott’s mind automatically supplied, as the memories of what had happened the night before suddenly hit him like an oncoming freight train.

“I – I bit her,” he said, swallowing roughly. Then, with wide eyes, he turned to look at Derek, knowing the implications, knowing that Stiles had been right to tell him yesterday that he should’ve gone to Derek’s place instead of Lydia’s, because _oh my god werewolves are real and I’m a werewolf and I just bit Allison_. “Oh my god – I – I – is she – ?”

“She’s not...like us, Scott,” Derek said, but this time, his voice was softer, and his face was softer too. If only a little. “Yeah, you bit her, but your bite...it doesn’t always work like that.”

“It...it doesn’t?” Scott asked.

“No,” Derek replied with a shake of his head.

Scott breathed out a shaky sigh of relief, even if he felt like the world was still ending. After all, Stiles had been _right_. He was a werewolf, a being that before now he would’ve sworn didn’t exist, but apparently it now did. How else could he explain what had happened last night? How else could he explain what had been happening to him for the past week? And apparently...apparently Derek was a werewolf, too. Not just because he said “like us,” but because it just made _sense_ , like Stiles said.

Stiles was right. Stiles had been right all along.

“You should get dressed,” Derek suddenly said, causing Scott to blink and look up at him in surprise. The other boy nodded to the door. “We have a lot to discuss.”

Scott nodded, before he wet his lips. “Is – is Stiles downstairs?” he asked.

“She is,” he confirmed. “And before you ask, your mom had to work a double shift. She texted you last night. Stiles answered it for you, but she figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Slowly, Scott shook his head in response, because if there was one person he trusted to act like him, it would be her.

“Oh,” Derek added with a smirk as he moved to leave the room, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. “You might also want to wake up Allison. I would, but...beta perks. Stiles and I already hauled your asses up here once; we aren’t doing it again.”

And with that, the other boy left the room, but not without making sure to close the door gently behind him.

Sighing, Scott ran a hand through his shaggy hair, before he slowly got up and out of his bed, letting the blankets fall away from him while he was at it. He didn’t think – or, at least, _tried_ not to think – about the fact that the condom he was sure he had worn last night was gone, didn’t think about what that could possibly mean and probably meant. Instead, with a mechanicalness he had never operated under before, he went over to his closet and pulled out the first t-shirt and pair of pants that he found, before putting them on.

Then, with shaky breaths and even shakier hands, he walked over back to his bed and gently touched Allison’s shoulder, the one that was bite-free and still unblemished. At first, all she did was mumble something and burrow further into the bed, but when he added a soft _“Allison”_ into his attempts to wake her up, she opened her eyes and stared at him confusingly.

“...Scott?” she muttered.

Scott winced. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “Look, I don’t really know what’s going on, but Derek wants us to come downstairs.”

Allison’s eyebrows furrowed. “Derek, as in...Derek Hale?” she asked. When he nodded, she moved to get up, and the blankets were suddenly falling away from her and Scott quickly averted his eyes. “Wait, where – where are we? What does Derek want? And why am I... _oh my god_ – ”

“I’ll – I’ll get some clothes for you,” Scott said as he stood, his face flushing. He quickly walked over to his closet and pulled out another pair of clothes, even as he heard Allison begin to hyperventilate behind him.

“Did we – ?” she asked faintly.

“Yes,” he replied as he threw the clothes behind him, not even turning around to see if they had made their mark.

“And you – ?”

“Bit you?” Scott finished for her. Then, hesitantly, he added, “Yeah. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. _Really_ sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.”

“What do you mean you didn’t mean – !”

Scott sighed. “Look,” he interjected as he resisted the urge to turn around and do exactly that. He wasn’t going to invade her privacy. Not again. “It’s...it’s as I said. I don’t really know what’s going on, but Derek does. So just...just...”

He trailed off.

After a few tense moments, he heard Allison sigh and then put on the clothes that he had given her. Then, just when he assumed she was done, he heard her sigh again and say, “You can turn around now.”

So, Scott did.

And when he saw her there, dressed in his clothes, _his clothes_ , his mouth went dry. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, both in his clothes and _not_ , and how her wearing his clothes was activating that weird possessive side in his brain that had only shown itself the previous night. But, knowing how all the more awkward him saying those things would’ve been, he didn’t. Say them. Instead, with a cough, Scott nodded to his bedroom door and said, “You ready?”

And meekly, Allison nodded.

The two of them then exited his bedroom and made their way down the stairs, Scott taking the lead this time instead of her since this was his house. They found Stiles and Derek waiting for them in the kitchen, where Stiles was sitting at the island counter and nursing a mug of coffee and Derek was leaning against the counter. The other boy was no longer wearing his leather jacket, instead revealing a plain black t-shirt underneath, but Scott had no idea if he should take that as a good sign or not, especially when, upon seeing them, all Derek said was, “Sit.”

Scott and Allison sat.

“So,” Derek said once they had done so, his eyes focusing first on Scott, and then on Allison. “I realize you two probably have some questions.”

Stiles snorted, before she took a long sip from her coffee, as if that would somehow erase the dark bags that were underneath her eyes.

Meanwhile, Scott shifted nervously and Allison just stared at the other boy blankly.

Realizing that that was all of the answer that he was going to get, Derek shifted his weight. “Well, I have some answers,” he said. “ _Some_. Not all. So...ask away. If I know an answer to your question, I’ll explain it. If not, well...”

“You’ll just passive-aggressively act like it’s a stupid question,” Stiles muttered under her breath.

Derek glared at her.

Deciding to break the ridiculous amount of tension that was in the air, Scott cleared his throat and went with his first question, the one that was the obvious and he had already confirmed. “I’m...I’m a werewolf, aren’t I?” he asked.

Derek nodded once.

Next to him, though, Allison frowned. “But werewolves aren’t real,” she protested, but her voice was unsure, and as she spoke she rose a hand to her shoulder where the bite mark was, now hidden from view.

Derek looked at her irritatedly. “Really?” he asked, his voice sharp. “You just got bitten by Scott last night and you’re trying to say that he’s not a werewolf? That _I’m_ not a werewolf, because werewolves don’t exist? What, do you need more proof?”

Allison opened her mouth, and then closed it.

But Derek, it seemed, wasn’t satisfied with that. Instead, he suddenly jumped away from the counter he had been leaning on and then leaned forward into the island one, a vicious sneer on his face. “Well, how’s _this_?” he snarled, at the exact same time that his eyes began to glow a brilliant, unearthly _gold_.

Allison gasped, a look of horror spreading across her face.

“Derek,” Stiles warned, seemingly unperturbed. But then again, judging by how tired she looked, the two of them must’ve been up all night, and that was more than enough time for the dark-haired girl to ask Derek as many questions as she needed...and to also get all of the answers she as well.

Derek backed up then, his eyes going from gold and back to brown as he did so. “Any other questions?” he asked angrily.

Wetting his lips again, Scott asked, “How – how long have you been a werewolf?”

“Since I was born,” Derek replied as he turned to look at him again. “My family...the Hales...most of us were werewolves. Not all, but most. You’re either born one or you turn once you’ve been bitten by one, like you. Don’t worry, though,” the last part, he added when he saw Allison’s eyes widen, “You’re not going to become one now, Argent. Not ever.”

“And why is that?” Scott asked.

Derek sighed, before he pulled up a stool and sat at the counter along with them. Then, he pulled out a strange, hockey puck-sized wooden object, and put it on the counter’s surface for all of them to see. Scott wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it had a strange, swirling pattern engraved on the top. Three spirals, all connected to one another.

“There are three ranks among werewolves,” Derek explained as they all looked at the not-hockey puck. “And they are the alpha, the beta, and the omega. The omega is the lone wolf, the _weak_ wolf, the one that is usually killed by hunters – ”

“Hunters,” Scott repeated faintly.

“Yes,” Derek said with a glare. “Because he is an easy target. The beta, on the other hand, is the pack wolf. He is the second strongest of the three ranks, and he has many friends, usually. So, the hunters aren’t going to kill him unless they have proof that he has done something bad, something wrong, like killing somebody. But most betas don’t kill people. Most betas live completely ordinary lives, along with their alpha, their leader of the pack. The alpha is the strongest of the pack, of all werewolves, and he’s usually supposed to be the wisest, too. He’s the most protective, the most resilient. Hunters aren’t going to kill him unless they’re left with absolutely no choice or unless he’s some sort of scum of the earth. You with me so far?”

Nervously, Scott nodded.

“Good,” Derek said. “Now, our ranks usually aren’t predetermined. This is what the triskelion,” here, he gestured to the not-hockey puck, “represents. Any omega can become a beta. Any beta can become an alpha. And any alpha can become a beta, or even an omega.

“But, once in a while, once in a _century_ , something strange happens. A person who is bitten by an alpha, because they are the only ones who can turn people into werewolves, does not become a beta or an omega. He becomes an alpha, and a special type of alpha at that. Some call him _le gardien_ , others the _patronus_. Mostly, though, in the United States, we call him the true alpha.”

“And Scott – Scott’s a true alpha?” Allison guessed. When Derek nodded, she quickly bit her lip before asking, “But what does that mean?”

“It means that Scott represents the best of us,” Derek explained. “He was chosen by – well, you can believe whatever you want to believe here, but he was chosen to be the protector, the _rejuvenator_ of not just werewolves, but of all supernatural kind. You know, witches, selkies, nymphs, werecoyotes – they all exist, too, although I have to say I’ve never met a selkie or a nymph before. They tend to not like big cities, and unfortunately NYC is about as big as it gets.”

Scott found himself nodding and taking in a shaky breath as he mulled over everything that Derek had just said. He wasn’t just a werewolf, he was – he was a true alpha, and it seemed like Derek and everyone else in this secret supernatural world thought that that meant he was going to protect them all or something like that...which, _okay_ , yeah that thought was sounding more and more ridiculous to him. He couldn’t even _drive_ yet, after all, so just how exactly did these people think he was going to protect them?

“Anyways,” Derek continued, and Scott blinked. Right. The other boy was talking still; he could freak out later, once he knew everything that there was to know. “The point is, the true alpha is considered to be the protector of supernatural kind because, true to the title, he will always keep an open door to a supernatural in need, unlike the hellhound, who is considered to be a protector because it will...err, _cover up_ the supernatural when it is required. And the true alpha is considered to be the rejuvenator of supernatural kind because – ”

“He amasses a harem of supernatural mates to have babies with,” Stiles suddenly interrupted him, before snorting again.

“Stilinski!” Derek hissed.

Scott blinked. _Wait, what?_

“You can’t be serious!” Allison cried out as she suddenly stood up, and the stool that she had been sitting in clattered to the floor behind her. “I mean, that’s – that’s ridiculous!”

“It is,” Stiles agreed, before she gazed at the other girl sharply with her amber eyes. “But it’s also true.”

“Stilinski, you know it’s much more complic – ” Derek tried to disagree.

But Stiles cut him off again. “No, it’s not,” she said firmly, before she set her mug of coffee down. “You told me basically all of that earlier, just in the same stupid beating-around-the-bush way that you’re doing now. Scott is a true alpha, we get it. A true alpha is a special person in the supernatural world because they have stupid mates to produce lots and lots of babies with, we get it. And Allison is one of those stupid mates, because even if she isn’t supernatural, the first mate is always a human, right? _Right_?” When Derek begrudgingly nodded, she nodded as well and said, “We. Get. It. Got it? Good. Now, how about you tell them of the more... _problematic_ side of the equation?”

“Wait,” Scott said, causing them all to look at him again. But, he didn’t care. His mind was spinning – no, the _room_ was spinning, spinning with all of the things that Stiles had just said in a completely nonchalant-sort-of-way, as if she somehow uncharacteristically expected him to just nod and accept it like it was a fact of life, like it was a new inhaler and _not_ something so utterly life-changing. Like it was just a bad paper assignment and not something that he apparently didn’t have any control over, not something that he could make up and never think about again. Because this...

...This was _permanent_.

Because that was what _mate_ implied, didn’t it? Well, maybe it didn’t all the time in the animal world, but when Scott got to thinking about, all the animals that he could list when he thought of the word mated for life. Swans, penguins, seahorses, _wolves_...the list could go on, really.

“ _Mates_ , Stiles,” he finished after a momentary pause, after he had thought all of that through.“You said mates.”

“I did,” his best friend agreed.

Turning to Derek, Scott resisted the urge to either get up and throw something or retch and asked, “Just how many ‘mates’ are we talking about here?”

Because mates was plural. Mates meant more than one, more than Allison, who his mind seemed to already accept as being one of his.

 _Being one of his mates,_ he corrected himself.

In response to his question, the other boy gave a completely unreassuring hug. “It depends,” he said. “Some true alphas in the past have had as little as two. Others have had as many as twelve.” When both Scott and Allison stared at him in horror, he added, “Most, though, seem to settle at either six or eight. The pattern follows the sacred prime numbers, if you include the true alpha. Three, seven, nine, thirteen...”

“That’s it, I’m done,” Allison announced. “I can – I can believe in werewolves, I guess, and I can believe that Scott is some sort of special werewolf too, but multiple mates? No. Just – just _no_.”

Scott felt more than inclined to agree with her, but one glare at both of them from Derek had him remaining in his seat. “No. No, you’re not done,” the other boy retorted. “You’re not done, Argent. Because, whether you like it or not, the mate bond – that scar on your shoulder? It’s _permanent_. The gods – sorry, _whatever_ you choose to believe in – wouldn’t have guided Scott to you if they didn’t think you guys could be together forever, as completely disgusting as it sounds. Besides, Stilinski is right: we have bigger fish to fry than Scott’s other mates and your angst. Bigger fish like your family, for one.”

Allison stiffened, then glared at him. “My family?” she asked. “What does my family got to do with any of this?”

“You know the myths, right?” Derek asked in return, a vicious smirk making its way onto his face as he did so. “Werewolves can’t stand wolfsbane, silver, or mountain ash. And while the wolfsbane and mountain ash parts are true, the silver one isn’t. It has a hidden meaning. Because you are aware of what the French word for silver is, right? It’s _argent_.”

It clicked in Scott’s brain then, what the other boy was implying. “That’s what you meant,” he realized, the horror of the entire situation slowly sinking into him. “When you said that – well, when you said _that_. Allison’s family, they’re all a bunch of – ”

“Hunters?” Derek supplied flatly. “Yeah. Some would even say they’re the best of the best. Considering that they killed my _entire_ _family_ , though, I’d have to disagree. Especially also considering that, if they found out that you had chosen Allison as your human mate...well, I don’t know what they’d do.” Here, he scrunched up his face. “They’re supposed to live by a code, but they may very well just kill you anyways, Scott, consequences be damned.”

Allison choked.

Derek, who had been looking at her up until then, seemingly relishing in just how much the revelation of what her family did terrified her, turned back to Scott. “The other fish that we have to fry,” he explained. “Is the alpha that bit you.”

Scott frowned as he pulled himself out of the despair that he was beginning to feel. “Why?” he asked, confused. “I mean, he didn’t – he didn’t do anything wrong, did he?”

Derek shook his head. “He turned you without your consent, Scott. That’s not something we’re supposed to do. And once he finds out that you’re not actually his beta, he’s probably going to turn somebody else. Another kid at the high school, probably. Because just like every beta needs an alpha, every alpha needs a beta. At least three betas, to be precise, in the case of regular alphas and not true ones.”

“Especially the ones that are batshit crazy,” Stiles added with a cheerfulness that Scott knew to be fake.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed with a roll of his eyes. “But I’m not quite sure how crazy he is. I – I mean, excluding the fact that he turned you, he seems to have a motive. And even if he didn’t have a motive, there’s also the fact that he was able to kill...able to kill...”

The other boy stood up then, before promptly leaving the room.

Confused, Scott turned to look at Stiles. His best friend was watching the doorway that Derek had exited the room through with a sad, sympathetic look on her face. But Scott didn’t understand why that was the case. “Who did the alpha kill?” he asked her, and when she didn’t immediately reply, he said, “Stiles, _who did the alpha kill_?”

Stiles turned to look at him.

“The alpha killed his sister, Scott,” she said. “Laura Hale. She was the Jane Doe...and the only alpha in the area who he could’ve stolen the power from.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Title: Lacrosse Mishaps


	7. Lacrosse Mishaps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here the chapter is, as promised! Next chapter will be posted on Saturday, along with potentially another one on Sunday. They’re both smaller chapters, but I haven’t decided if I actually want to do a double update or not yet.
> 
> Until then,
> 
> ~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

**Scott let out a sigh as he leaned his head back into the lockers.** He was all dressed up and ready for the lacrosse practice session that was supposed to start in a few minutes, but for some reason, he didn’t really feel like going.

No, not _some_ reason. _A_ reason. And a very good reason at that.

After Derek had left the kitchen and, indeed, the rest of Scott’s house on Saturday for both the rest of that day and Sunday, Stiles had taken it upon herself to explain everything else that he had told her to Scott and Allison. She’d told them about how Scott’s eyes were red instead of gold like Derek’s, about how polyamory was apparently a perfectly acceptable thing in the supernatural world and he wouldn’t need to worry about it, about how at least one of his mates was going to be another werewolf, and _oh_ , about how apparently Derek had suggested that he quit lacrosse _“while he was ahead”_. Whatever the fuck that meant.

Originally, Scott had accepted all of this with shock and with horror, but also with some sort of muted acceptance. _After all,_ he had thought after that horrible conversation, when he was leading Allison to her car (apparently, Derek had convinced Lydia to call her parents and say that she was going to spend the night there, even if that was not what had happened whatsoever) in order to make sure she didn’t slip and fall between all the shock, _what could he do? What was done was done. He was apparently a true alpha werewolf now, and that meant he was a protector. That meant that he would have mates. Many mates. Including Allison and whoever “the gods” decided to lead him towards next._

But apparently, the thoughts “what was done was done” and “whether he liked it or not” weren't able to keep him from being angry.

Because he was. _So. Angry._ He was angry at the alpha that had bitten him, at Derek for not trying harder to keep him from going to Lydia’s party that Friday night and probably ruining Allison’s life, at _himself_ for ruining Allison’s life in the first place, even if “the gods made them do it” or something like that. He was angry at the fact that, even if he liked Allison and would probably like whoever he wound up with in the future, that he didn’t really have a say in it, that apparently it was fate and the promise of children more than anything else that would bind them all together (even if a part of him, no matter how large or how small, insisted that that wasn’t quite true). And he was also angry at how, every time he got angry, his vision would turn red and his fingernails would turn into claws and his teeth into fangs, even if it did give some practice with dealing with his anger so he could go and shove Derek’s lacrosse comment in his face.

“Hey, McCall!” the distinctive voice of Jackson Whittemore suddenly said. “McCall!”

 _Oh no,_ Scott thought, just as he resisted the urge to groan.

Jackson glared at him as he walked up and got all in his face, as if he did this all the time when really, the opposite couldn’t be any truer. “What the fuck is going on with you, McCall?” the other boy demanded.

“I – uh – what?” Scott said with a frown.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Jackson asked with a scoff, but it seemed to be a rhetorical question, because not a moment later, he said, “What the fuck is going on with you, McCall?”

“I – no – nothing,” Scott replied quickly, but his reply was weak, he knew.

And Jackson knew it too.

“Really, McCall?” he asked again, tauntingly. “Because I don’t believe you. Something _has_ to be up with you. First lacrosse, then you and Allison Friday night.” When Scott blanched, Jackson grinned viciously and nodded. “Oh, yeah, don’t think your stupid little friends Hale and Stilinski totally convinced Lydia to keep her mouth shut. She told me everything, and while I could honestly care less about your sex life, you are _not_ going to ruin _my_ chances at the championships this year. You hear me?”

Scott blinked. The guy had heard about what had happened at Lydia’s party – or, at least, whatever the redhead had told him – and his concern was Scott...ruining his chances at the lacrosse championships?

“You hear me, McCall?” Jackson repeated, with a slap to the lockers for good measure.

“I – uh – yeah!” Scott stammered. “Yeah, I hear you.”

Jackson nodded sharply. “Good,” he said, before he walked off, presumably to the field.

Scott watched him go for a few moments, before he sighed again and shook his head. _Great, just great._ Not only was he going to have to deal with Allison’s family wanting to kill him as soon as they found out how... _connected_ they were, as well as the fact that there was a crazy alpha running loose, but apparently he was going to have to deal with Jackson too.

As if his life wasn’t already bad enough.

Knowing that he couldn’t stall from going to practice any longer, Scott stood up properly and followed Jackson’s footsteps. The rest of the team was already outside and on the field when he got there, but nobody even gave him the slightest of glances at his late arrival, despite the fact that he was on first line now. Nobody, that is, except for Stiles and Derek, who were both sitting in the stands. Stiles looked happy to see him and waved, all of the rudeness she had displayed on Saturday from lack of sleep now gone, but Derek...

...Derek looked decidedly more reserved, just as he had at lunch earlier that day.

(The lunch where Allison didn’t sit with them. Even if she hadn’t before, it still hurt that she didn’t now. It still hurt that she hadn’t talked to him since Saturday, not even during their English class earlier that day.)

Ignoring the two of them, Scott turned and focused his attention on the lacrosse coach.

“Alright!” Coach Finstock said a moment later as he looked at the entire team with a sharp, appraising gaze. “Now, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I had a pretty _crappy_ weekend. And you know what I like to see, more than anything else, after a crappy weekend? Lacrosse players creaming each other during practice, that’s what!”

Most of the other lacrosse players cheered.

“You know your usual teams!” Finstock shouted. “So, get into them! Anyone who doesn’t will be running suicide runs until they actually die!”

Scott rolled his eyes at the empty threat, but nevertheless did as he was told, just as the rest of his teammates did. Greenberg smiled at him pleasantly as he did so, because even if Scott had proven himself and earned a spot on first line, he was still one of the lessers on the team. For now, anyways.

“Ready, McCall?” Greenberg asked.

Scott shrugged, not really wanting to talk to the other guy, but all his shrugging did was make Greenberg laugh.

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” the other boy said.

Coach Finstock then blew the whistle.

Immediately, the game burst into action. Players were slamming into each other, the ball was being passed around, back and forth, back and forth. Scott stood at the ready when he saw one of his teammates get the ball; however, much to his chagrin, that teammate then threw the ball to _Greenberg_ , who got pinned by Jackson within seconds, the captain of the lacrosse team smashing his stick down onto the other sophomore’s gloves, causing the ball to go flying into the air.

Their coach blew his whistle again at the sight. “Nicely done, Jackson,” he commented, before he turned to look at Greenberg. “Greenberg, that was a _pathetic_ display of amateur ability. Take a lap. Brenfield will take your place. Brenfield! Get over here!”

“Yes, Coach,” Greenberg said disappointedly as he got up and off the field.

Scott watched him go, a weird pit of... _something_ pooling into his stomach. Although he had to admit that Greenberg was a pretty bad player – although, that being said, he was also decent enough to manage a spot on the playing team – Jackson creaming him like that was just uncalled for. But then again, there were a lot of things that Jackson Whittemore had done in his life that were uncalled for. Like threatening Scott earlier. Or like him calling Stiles a dyke once in the eighth grade. Or –

– Coach Finstock blew his whistle again.

This time, Scott tried to take a more active and approachable tactic to the game. He tried to make himself more available to his other teammates, tried to even get the ball himself, but the other “team,” Jackson’s team, still somehow managed to hit a goal. Once. Twice. Three times.

Scott felt that pit of something inside his stomach begin to boil.

 _“Scott,”_ he heard Stiles say as he got back into formation with everyone else, preparing for Finstock to blow his whistle for the sixth time. _“Scott, listen to me. Derek says that you need to get off the field, and you need to get off the field_ now _. Come on, Scott, he’s serious – ”_

And serious he may have been, but Scott didn’t care. _Derek says this,_ he thought angrily. _Derek says that. My life’s already..._ not _ruined, but Allison’s is, so who cares? How could this get any worse?_

This time, the sound of the whistle was as much of a reprieve as it was a game-inducer.

Scott watched the game with narrowed eyes. It was like everything was moving in slow motion. First, Jackson got the ball, but due to a sudden miscalculation about how everyone else around him was moving, he lost it. Then, it went to his teammate Lahey, a tall and lanky guy who Scott only knew the first name of: Isaac. Then, it went to Woods, one of Jackson’s best friends and perhaps the most enthusiastic member on their team. And then, _finally_ , it went to –

“Brenfield!” Scott shouted.

The scrawniest member of the entire team as a whole looked up, his eyes wide.

And then, acting with probably the greatest amount of self-preservation in his life, Brenfield through the ball to him, allowing Scott to catch it with relative ease.

As soon as he caught it, though, the _real_ game was on. Running, Scott made his way down the field, swerving past and weaving through the members of the other “team”. The only person who had any hope of stopping him was Jackson, and as soon as the other boy tried to do so –

– Scott crashed into him with the full force of a freight train.

The effect was instantaneous. Because even as Scott moved forward and past Jackson, even as he successfully made the goal that he was wanting to make, Jackson fell down, and he fell down _hard_ , judging by the horrifying _crack_ that was heard as his shoulder made contact with the ground.

“ _Agh!_ ” Jackson screamed.

Coach Finstock blew his whistle again. The game immediately stopped, and all of the other players – even Greenberg, who had just finished his lap – crowded around Jackson. “Alright, alright!” the coach shouted at all of them. “Give him some space. Come on, give him some space!”

Scott noted all of this with a weird, pseudo-disattachment. He was just _so_ angry still, and he wasn’t calming down. Belatedly, he realized that he had to get out of there. He had to get off the field. Because otherwise, he probably would just wind up hurting someone else again.

With those thoughts in mind, Scott ran off the field, clutching his head in his hands all the while. As he ran, he heard the telltale sign of at least two people following after him, but once he instinctively realized that those people were Stiles and Derek, he stopped caring. Instead, he continued to run, and he didn’t stop running until he was in the boy’s locker room, where he was able to take off his helmet and his gloves without anybody else looking, revealing his glowing red eyes and his claws in all of their glory.

“I told you!” Derek snarled the second that he and Stiles entered the room. “I told you that this would happen!”

“Well, actually, I told him,” Stiles said, but when Derek turned to glare at her, she raised her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. It’s just semantics.”

But Scott wasn’t paying attention to her. His entire focus rested on Derek, and solely on Derek. “I’m not quitting lacrosse!” he growled.

Derek scoffed. “Look, McCall,” he said. “You may have a lot more self-control than a regular turned werewolf because you’re a true alpha and all that now, but lacrosse is still lacrosse. It’s still heart-pumping, it’s still anger-inducing. And _that_ is exactly the last thing you need, especially considering you haven’t even experienced a proper full moon!”

Scott blinked, his anger dissipating and turning into confusion. “Wait, what?” he asked.

Derek blinked as well, before he turned back to look at Stiles. “You didn’t tell him?” he hissed.

“I told him everything else!” Stiles retorted defensively, before she placed her hands on her hips.

“Well, ‘everything else’ isn’t good enough! Did that thought ever occur to you, Stilinski?”

Scott blinked again. He had a feeling that, whatever it was that Derek and Stiles were arguing about, them arguing about it wasn’t going to end well. For either of them. Or himself. So, awkwardly, he cleared his throat, and once he had their attention, asked, “What didn’t Stiles tell me? Why didn’t I experience a proper full moon?”

Derek sighed, before turning back to look at him. “You didn’t experience a proper full moon because of Allison,” he explained. “The pheromones drew you two together that night...I mean, don’t you think it’s a little weird that you and Allison had sex _at a party_ Friday night, despite the fact you were both virgins and hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other previously?”

Scott frowned. “It wasn’t that simple,” he protested.

“But it was,” Derek disagreed. “If you hadn’t been at the party that night, if you hadn’t seen Allison that night, you wouldn’t have marked her already. And _that_ is exactly why I wanted you to stay with me. _You_ need to learn control, Scott. Because the next time you experience a full moon, the first time you really experience it...you’ll probably hurt someone. Probably kill someone. It won’t just be all fun times and bliss.”

Scott considered that statement, for a moment. Derek was probably right, if only because he had more experience than Scott did in this area...in all areas about being a werewolf. But still, he didn’t like being bossed around by Derek, because Derek wasn’t exactly _nice_. He was rude, he was blunt, and he seemed to have a grudge against Allison which, while understandable, did _not_ make Scott happy. Instead, it made him wonder just how a friendship with Derek could ever work.

...Provided that Allison actually talked to him again, that is.

And that was exactly why Scott asked in a quiet voice, once his moment was up, “But why should I learn control from you?”

Derek sneered viciously, but Scott had a feeling then that it was all a facade – a facade to hide the hurt that he felt at Scott’s question, if the hurt that flashed through his hazel eyes like that molten gold they could become was any indicator. “You’re not my alpha, Scott,” he said. “Technically, I don’t own anything to you. Technically, you should be grateful that I’m even _trying_ to help you in the first place. Because, let me tell you, McCall: if I had a choice, if it wasn’t because my sister needed to be avenged, I would’ve left you and the rest of Beacon Hills and gone back to New York the second that I could.”

And with that, the werewolf left, gone before either Scott – _not_ that he was feeling like it – or Stiles could’ve tried to persuade him to stay.

As soon as he left, though, Stiles turned to glare at him, her amber eyes alight. “What the _fuck_ was that?” she asked. “What were you thinking? How much of a dumbass are you?”

“Why are you mad at me?” Scott retorted with wide eyes.

Stiles scoffed. “Why am I mad at you?” she asked, before she shook her head. “I’m mad at you because you just pissed off the one person who could help you, the one person who knows _how_ to help you! I mean, seriously, Scott, who else do you think has the ability to teach you how to be a werewolf besides Derek?”

“I – I don’t know!” Scott cried, which was true. He didn’t know anyone else who could teach him what Derek knew, no one except for maybe... “Why can’t you teach me?”

Stiles’s cheeks were suddenly tinged with an uncharacteristic pink. “Because – because I’m human, Scott,” she said, and for a second, Scott thought that her voice was beginning to tremble. But just as soon as he thought that, the tremble was gone, and she continued with: “I – I mean, I’ll always be here for you, Scott, don’t get me wrong. Regardless of how many supposed mates you have. But, at the same time, Derek only had a few hours to tell me things. Hours, Scott. Meanwhile, he has _years_. He’s had his entire _life_ to learn all the things that you need to know. And he seems to be a pretty damn good expert too – at least as far as teenage werewolves can be, anyways.”

Scott found himself frowning again. His best friend, as always, had a point, even if he didn’t like it and even if he didn’t really want to talk about it, wanting to talk about the reason why she was blushing instead. But, knowing that bringing up that fact would probably land him in a deeper hole than he already was, Scott sighed and said, “Alright. Alright, fine. I’ll learn from Derek, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s not about what I want, Scott,” Stiles replied with a roll of her eyes. “It’s about what _you_ need. Besides, don’t you think you should...oh, I don’t know, apologize to Derek first?”

“A – apologize?” Scott spluttered.

“Yes, apologize!” Stiles snapped. “Jesus, Scott, he’s just trying to help you!”

“Like – Like now?” Scott asked. Because while yes, he knew that Stiles was right, that Derek was just trying to help him, but couldn’t it...wait a day? Until lunchtime tomorrow, at least?

But Stiles wasn’t going to wait that long. The fact that she was already grabbing his hand and leading him along made that obvious.

“No, Scott,” she said, true to his thoughts. “He’s...he’s your teacher. You don’t just disrespect your teacher and wait until the next day to apologize, unless it’s Mr. Harris. So, you still have that address he gave you, right? Because that’s where we’re going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Title: Control


	8. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided due to health reasons that the next chapter will be posted next week instead of tomorrow, but I also added some extra stuff to this one to make up for that. Apologies for the delay.
> 
> Until next time, though,
> 
> ~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

**Scott didn’t know what he should’ve expected of the address that Derek had given him, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t for it to be the house that his family must have _died_ in.**

Because, well, who else owned a house that was out in the middle of the woods, a house that was practically burned to the crisp? Scott swallowed harshly at the thought, even as he realized that, before the fire, the house must have been something magnificent. After all, it seemed to have three floors and be colonial in design, with powerful bricks that must’ve once been a light brownish-red, but were now ash-grey in color. From the fire. From the ash. From the _decay_ , which the scent of somehow, after six years, still clung to the house and the entire land that surrounded it, to the point that Scott’s eyes watered and he was forced to resist the urge to retch.

As they came to a stop in front of the house, Stiles didn’t seem to have as strong of a reaction as he did. Granted, her face paled at the sight of the house and her hands instinctively tightened on the wheel of her Jeep, but she didn’t seem to smell what he could smell, didn’t seem to instinctively feel what he instinctively felt.

 _...Perks of being a werewolf,_ he guessed.

Fortunately, though, he didn’t have to ponder on that thought for long, because as soon as Stiles stopped her car, Derek was walking out of the ruined house with a scowl on his face and clenched fists.

“So,” he said once Scott and Stiles exited the Jeep. “Are you finally ready to listen, or do I need to hear you pathetically whine for another a hour?”

“I don’t whine – ” Scott began to protest, before Stiles conspicuously shoved him in the side with her elbow. “Ow, Stiles!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Stiles said with a mischievous grin. “I’m so clumsy. You were saying, Scott?”

Scott winced. Right. He was supposed to be apologizing, not protesting Derek’s stupid accusations.

“Look,” he said as he tried to remember all of the things that Stiles had told him he should say. “I – I’m sorry, okay? You’re just – you’ve just been trying to help me, while also dealing your sister being killed by the werewolf that bit me, and I’m just – I’m just sorry.”

Derek stared at him for a moment, unblinking.

Then, he nodded. “Apology accepted,” he said. “Now, do you want to learn how to control yourself or not?”

“I – I do,” Scott said honestly.

Derek nodded again. “Good,” he replied, before he turned to look at Stiles. “If that’s the case, then Stilinski, you should probably back up a bit. You don’t want to get hurt, believe me.”

Stiles looked at both of them and raised an eyebrow, probably wondering just how bad things were going to get if she was being told to do that, but otherwise did as she was told.

Once Derek was satisfied with her distance, he turned to Scott, a determined look on his face. “There are a lot of ways to learn how to control yourself,” he began. “But, considering that the alpha that bit you is probably going to come after you once he discovers you’re not his beta – he seems to be crazy enough to do something stupid like attacking a true alpha, anyways – I’m going to teach you the three I’m the most familiar with.

“The first method is pain,” Derek continued, before he raised one of his hands and slashed it down, causing his claws to be unleashed. Then, without even blinking or inhaling a deep breath, he closed his hand into a fist, causing his claws to smash into his hand and for blood to pour out of his freshly-inflicted wounds and spill onto the ground.

“Oh, that’s gross,” Scott heard Stiles say faintly. He knew that she had always _really_ hated the sight – and smell – of blood. And frankly, seeing how calm Derek was at inflicting injuries upon himself, he honestly couldn’t blame her for her reaction. At least, not that time.

“Pain keeps us grounded,” Derek said, purposely ignoring Stiles. “Regardless of whether or not you use either of the other two ways to keep yourself in control. That’s why it’s the easiest of these three methods to learn. Plus, it always helps that we heal almost instantaneously most of the times, and that the only injury that leaves a scar is the mate bite of a true alpha.”

Derek suddenly raised his hand, which was now open and not closed into a fist. And although there was still blood covering it in some areas, Scott could see that he was right, on both accounts: the wounds he had inflicted on himself were already healed, and there wasn’t a single sign of a scar, not even a single trace.

“The second method,” Derek continued, “is anger. There’s a way, a very _hard_ way, to root yourself to your anger instead of letting it overcome you. Usually, it’s said that only the most tortured souls can do it, only the ones that have been through hell, but I saw a few hotheaded werewolves in New York that could control themselves this way without all of the suffering. However, that being said, I don’t think you have it in you to go this route.”

“What?” Scott asked. “Why not?”

Derek shrugged. “Because you’re just not an angry person,” he explained, “And despite what you think, you haven’t been through hell...yet. Which means that, besides pain, there’s really only one other option for you, and that’s the third one: an anchor, which is someone – or something – that you can tie your mind to, someone who you want to protect, and someone you know can protect you.

“And theoretically, this option should be the easiest for you,” Derek added. “You’re a true alpha who has a mate already, and a mate who could easily protect herself at that. It’s what she was born to do, after all. But, thanks to your refusal to meet me here Friday night, you also don’t know her that well. So...it shall be interesting to see how you’ll react.”

Scott blinked. “React to what?”

Derek grinned in response. “Just try to remain in control, okay?” he asked.

And then, before Scott could even ask about what the other boy meant by that, Derek’s eyes were suddenly _glowing_. His face was changing, too – becoming more wolflike, more primitive. The way that Scott assumed he probably looked when he changed. And there were his claws, too – claws that were meant to hunt, Scott realized, meant to hurt, meant to _kill_.

And then, Derek was suddenly _charging_ at him.

At first, Scott had no idea what to do. He could only stare blankly at Derek’s charging form, because _seriously_ , what was Derek expecting him to do? Maintain his control, yeah, that was obvious, but would happen if he didn’t? If he couldn’t? Was Derek prepared to get hurt? Was he maybe even _expecting_ it?

But then, after what was probably only a second or two, something changed inside Scott’s mind. No, not just changing. Screaming. Screaming at him _beta beta dangerous beta not your own beta not yet your beta fight him fight fight fight –_

And then, before Scott had even realized what happened, Derek was _flying_ through the air, before he crashed into a tree with a sickening _thud_.

“Oh my God! Derek!” Stiles gasped from her place near her Jeep.

But, before either her or Scott, who couldn’t believe what he just did, rush forward to him, Derek raised his hand from where he was positioned on the forest floor. He coughed, once. Then, with a tenderness that became less and less pronounced, he slowly stood up, turned to look at Scott, and nodded. “You feel that?” he asked. “You feel that instinct, that anger?”

Nervously, Scott nodded, before he turned to look at his hands, which his claws were protruding from once again. He couldn’t believe what he had just done.

“You _have_ to control it,” Derek insisted. “So, let’s do it again.”

And did it again they did. And not just once or twice or even thrice, either. They did it so many times – Derek rushing forward at him and Scott trying (and usually failing) to resist the urge to attack him in fact, that it wasn’t until the beginning stages of twilight that Derek finally stopped, nodded, and declared them done.

“That’ll do,” he said. “For now, anyways. I still don’t think you should be playing lacrosse, but, before you ask, I don’t think you’ll kill everyone at the game Wednesday night, if you still want to play. Although, I do think you should come back here again tomorrow, so that we can practice and make sure.”

Scott sighed in relief. He did. “Good. And, okay. I’ll be here tomorrow, after work.”

“Yeah, and I’ll drive him,” Stiles piped up, as if she wanted to make sure that Derek knew he would be true to his word, despite the fact that she had been mostly silent up until now.

“One another thing, though, before you go,” Derek said, just as Scott began to walk towards Stiles and her Jeep. “Give Allison some space. I know that you don’t want to because you feel like all of this is your fault and that it’ll also be hard, but she needs some time to get used to all of this. Your bond. Her family. Everything.”

Nervously, Scott wet his lips. “How – how much time are we talking about here?” he asked.

Once again, Derek gave one of those completely unreassuring shrugs. “I don’t really know,” he said. “But, she’ll get used to it. Eventually. I mean, she wouldn’t have been chosen as one of your mates if she wasn’t good with weird, after all.”

~~~

As it turned out, Derek was right.

He was right about the lacrosse game, in the sense that Scott was able to play without hurting anyone, even if he came a little too close to doing so one or two times for comfort. But, he also kind of felt like that was to be expected, because after hearing that Jackson was trying to get the rest of the team to not pass to him, _really_ , what else could he be expected to do?

But, that’s not the point. The point is, Derek was right about him and lacrosse, just as he was right about him and Allison. Because while at first, Scott thought that it would’ve been easy for him to just give Allison her space, as time went on, as each minute turned into an hour and each hour into a day, he found his control over his ability to not talk to her slipping. Because it wasn’t like she wasn’t at school, because she _was_ , and he could smell her scent – although it was now diluted, as a side effect of the mate bond – everywhere, could feel her eyes boring into him every now and then both during their shared English class and during lunch.

Every time that he looked at her in either the hallway or at lunch while Derek was around, though, the other boy would simply give him the most nonplussed look and say, “She needs her space, Scott. Just give her some time.”

And while Scott may have just ignored Derek’s advice after the billionth or so time that he said it, the fact that _Stiles_ agreed with Derek made him more than just a little hesitant. Because not only was Stiles his best friend and not only did she rarely ever lead him wrong, but she and Derek also bickered. Constantly. In fact, they bickered so much that it seemed like the only thing they could ever agree on was how to address the werewolf “issue,” and it made Scott both relieved and wanting to smash his head against a wall.

Finally, though, after Monday bled into Tuesday and Tuesday bled into Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, Scott gave up. He didn’t care what Derek or Stiles would later say – he just couldn’t wait for Allison to come to him any longer. So, he was going to go to her himself.

And that was why Scott was currently biking down a street within probably one of the nicest neighborhoods in Beacon Hills, following her scent. He knew that, if he was a human still, that that ability wouldn’t have been possible. The air was full of the scents of autumn – of crisp leaves, of harvest, of _decay_ , even if that latter smell wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been around the remains of Derek’s house and family.

But, then again, he also wouldn’t be going to Allison’s place in the first place if he had still been a human and not a werewolf. A true alpha werewolf.

So caught up in these thoughts and the fact that Derek was probably going to kill him when he heard what he did, at first, Scott didn’t notice the car that was coming towards him. In fact, he didn’t notice it until he saw its headlights turn on and heard whoever was behind the wheel lay on the horn, but by then, well... _it was already too late_.

And the only thing that Scott could do was look up in surprise as the front of the car made impact with not just the bike, but also himself, causing him to go crashing into the ground.

“ _Agh!_ ” he gasped as he hit the pavement, but not because he was in any severe pain. No, his gasp was more from the surprise of it all than anything else.

 _Yet another perk of being a werewolf,_ he figured.

Vaguely, as he laid there, disoriented, he heard the car come to a stop, before the driver’s door opened and closed. Then, a distinctively masculine voice said, “Oh my God...kid, kid, are you alright?”

Dazedly, Scott looked up, squinting. There was a man in front of him who looked to be maybe somewhere between the age of his mom and Stiles’s dad, so basically anywhere between thirty-seven and fifty-one – which, okay, wasn’t _really_ a good good guess, but it was a guess. Besides, Scott figured he was probably on the younger side of that spectrum, although he didn’t quite know why. Besides his age, though, the other noticeable things about the man were his light brown hair and his equally light blue eyes, along with the fact that he somehow seemed... _familiar_ , although Scott didn’t quite know why. He was quite sure that he had never seen the man before in his entire life.

Blinking, Scott shook these thoughts away as he slowly got to his feet, causing the man to look at him in surprise. “I’m – I’m okay,” he said.

The man gave him a disbelieving look in surprise, before saying, “I just hit you with my car. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Scott repeated.

The man looked like he wanted to press the situation further but, before he could, the front door of the house that they were standing in front of was suddenly thrown open, and then _Allison_ was marching her way outside, dressed in a light green cardigan that covered up the bite – _his bite_ – on her shoulder, as well as the outfit that she had been wearing at school earlier that day.

“Dad!” Allison cried. “Dad, what the hell are you doing?”

Scott blinked. Again. _Wait a second –_

“I didn’t notice him – ” the man began to protest, but Allison wasn’t having any of it.

“Are you trying to kill him?” she asked.

Scott looked between the two of them with wide eyes. Because of course, _of course_ , that was why the man was familiar. He was Allison’s father. A hunter. And _the_ hunter that would probably kill Scott, if and when he ever found out about the fact that the werewolf gods had decided that Allison was supposed to be and now was one of his mates.

“Of course not,” Mr. Argent protested again in response to Allison’s question. Which, granted, was probably true, if not more than just a little ironic. “I just didn’t notice him and then – ”

“It’s fine,” Scott interjected then, causing both father and daughter to turn to look at him in surprise. “It’s my fault.”

And yeah, despite saying that, he knew that it probably wouldn’t be considered his fault in terms of legal standing, but Scott didn’t care. Because as soon as those words left his lips, Allison’s gaze, which had been one of utter surprise up until now, softened. “Are you – are you okay?” she asked, blissfully unaware about how that statement, how her concern made relief wash over him like a thousand gentle waves.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Really. I swear. I was just – I was just coming over to say hello. No harm done.”

Mr. Argent raised an eyebrow at their interaction. “Are you one of Allison’s new friends?” he asked.

“Uh, y – yeah,” Scott said, even though he felt more than inclined to deny that statement. He and Allison weren’t friends. They were _more_. Something a lot more. “I’m Scott. Scott McCall.”

“Well, Scott,” Argent said. “Seeing as how I just hit you with my car, why don’t you come inside? It’s only right.” The last part, he added a little forcibly, presumably at the wide-eyed and blanched look that must’ve spread across Scott’s face at the idea of going into the house of his mate’s family, the family that would want to kill him once they found out that fact.

Knowing that he couldn’t actually deny the man’s invitation without coming across as more suspicious than he probably already was, Scott swallowed as he nodded. “Uh, y – yeah, sure,” he replied.

And _fuck,_ he supposed as he followed Mr. Argent and Allison as they led him towards their house. _If the Argents weren’t going to kill him later, then one thing was for sure: Derek most certainly_ would _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Title: The Argents


End file.
